She Who Destroys the Light
by Blackpen Enaru
Summary: Some queens are made, not chosen. The tale of how a mortal priestess of lowly roots won the throne of the underworld and the heart of a king. Hades and Persephone. Hades makes his first appearance in chapter 6.
1. Phassa

A/N: the numbers are footnotes, they show up at the end. Please ignore them if they make no sense.

I had posted an older version of this story but I have COMPLETELY changed it, hopefully for the better.

This tale is about the true origins behind the Hades and Persephone myth. The main character is the human girl whose identity gets confused with that of Kore, the goddess. By the time her story reached Homer, she and Kore were considered the same.

Constructive criticism always welcome.

* * *

1309 BCE

Mycenae, Greece

"By Uranus' severed testicles!" someone cried. "Wake up, you're going to let my hearth die out."

I stirred in my half slumber. Would I never get any rest? As an eight year old girl who had entered the palace service just three moons ago, I was still squashed below the foot of the priestly hierarchy. Unsurprisingly, I had been assigned the daunting task of watching over a divine bonfire that was indoors and thus completely shielded from the elements.

"Incompetent humans," the speaker huffed.

As if to illustrate her point, I nodded off as the woman poked at the fire and shuffled about. I knew I was neglecting my duty, but the lull of Hypnos was strong. My back was sore and hot from leaning against one of the four pillars that surrounded the hearth. My behind was aching from sitting on the hard, plaster floor. Regardless, my lids felt so heavy, I was not accustomed to staying up all night.

"Chastity, Piety, Servility," I muttered drowsily. We priestesses were required to chant the Three Core Values each morning and fulfill them in every moment of our lives. I found the latter to be rather difficult, I had no idea what any of those words meant. Neither did any of the other girls who shared my status as a lowly dakoroi. As junior assistants to the klawiphoroi, or Key Bearers, we were only a few rungs above the slaves. "Chastity, Piety…"

"What silly drivel!" snapped the voice.

At the sound of such heresy, I gave a start and forced myself to crack my eyes open. When I took in the lady who was bent over the fire, I sincerely wished I had not, out of all nights, lost the straw draw tonight. I gingerly rose to my numb feet.

The intruder was eerily lovely, with golden locks curling gently around her smooth, oval face. Her large, blue eyes sparkled with mischief, or perhaps it was just a trick of the flickering firelight.

How could she have possibly gotten past the guards? She was more than conspicuous, her gleaming white robe stood out in stark contrast against the blues, reds, oranges, pinks, yellows, browns, and blacks that dominated every stretch of the walls, floor, and ceiling. Her attire flowed down to her (sandaled!) feet, went up to her chin, and covered her arms completely.

Every other person I had ever seen in and around the palace wore some variation of either a tiny kilt or a knee length, sleeveless tunic. The people of Mycenae were fond of loud hues, their clothes usually sported contrasting bands of color at the neckline (if applicable) and hem.

My hometown of Eleusis was full of humble farmers that could never afford such extravagant dyes, much less the extra fabric that went into the pleats, flares, and flounces that were so popular at court.

Of all the colors the Mycenaeans never touched, there was nothing like purple. _Purple_, the color of kings and gods. Out of humility and perhaps frugality, King Eurystheus himself, may-Zeus-favor-his-reign, generally saved this shade for times that required great pomp and circumstance, or so I had been told.1 And yet, this woman in white wore a thick rope of purple around her slender waist.

I waited for lightening to strike her down, but none came. Perhaps the gods expected me to give her fair warning before they resorted to violence.

"Barbarian!" I blustered lamely. "Dare you touch the fire of Hestia? And to wear purple?"

"Dare I?" she tittered. "Dare you speak to me in such a manner? I am Hestia."

Now that I was more awake, I noticed that she pronounced her words in a somewhat sophisticated, somehow foreign, but very elegant way. It took me aback and I could only stare in open mouthed shock when she swept over to the throne and plopped into it. To exacerbate her deadly offense, she picked up a jar of libation wine and tipped the entire thing down her throat! She smacked her rosy lips and released a belch that momentarily lifted my hair from my shoulders.

"Dionysus' wine always gives me a headache," she complained. "I think I prefer my drinks weaker."

"Oh…" I managed. What else to say? This person, whoever she was, was committing great sacrilege under my watch. There was a possibility that she was insane and unpredictable. I began to creep towards the axial doors, the only way in and out of the throne room. "How did you get in here?" _Keep her distracted_, I told myself.

"Well." She made a sardonic display of pondering. "It wasn't that hard really. I landed on that terrace in the south end, walked down those big stairs, and wound up in here."

"Did you fly?" I scoffed, forgetting caution. The Southern Terrace was two flights up from here and loomed high above ground level.

"Of course not," she laughed. "My horses did."

I smiled weakly before I dashed out and through the anteroom, where I almost collided into one of the double columns of the portico. All the guards were snoring peacefully!

"Intruder! Heretic! Barbarian!" I cried, but to no avail.

I ran into the courtyard where the stars twinkled above me and the moonlight streamed in to cast spooky shadows with the colonnades that flanked me on one and a half sides. I stood in the middle of the space and whipped my head back and forth between the only two ways to access the megaron, the (usually) well guarded unit that consisted of the throne room, its anteroom, and the portico.

The first mode of entry was a lone corridor that connected to the palatial maze of doorways, courtyards, and narrow halls in which many sentinels prowled, eager to demonstrate their battle skills. The other was the staircase of which the woman had spoken. The terrace upstairs opened into the royal suites, which would have even more guards.

Impossible. Mycenae was built to defend against an army. It could not have been infiltrated by a crazy woman in a funny tunic. This was simply a dream, a joke, or a test, most likely the first. The older dakoroi had warned me that if I fell asleep for too long, the warriors in the frescoes would come to life, jump out of the walls, and poke me with their spears.

I decided that I had best return to my post and try to wake up. I did so but the apparition would not go away. Instead, it had the gall to criticize the allotment of duties.

"Why do they always have a little girl watching my hearth at night?" she demanded. "Why do they not assign someone more experienced?"

"All the older girls are busy delivering fruit to the guardhouse," I replied defensively.

"Fruit at this hour… Surely not lemon halves?"2

How did she know? "To boost morale for the soldiers." I nodded warily.

She roared with laughter, but I did not understand what was so amusing. Instead, I silently berated myself for having revealed this information. We were sworn to secrecy on the pain of never being allowed to accompany the older girls when we were "ready." I tried to change the subject.

"You sit in the wanax's, may Zeus favor his reign, throne and drink the wine meant for Hera's blessing. In the name of Zeus, cease this sacrilege," I quavered in a poor attempt to sound commanding.

"What?" she said incredulously. "It's not my fault you humans hardly have any furniture around here. You expect me to sit on the floor and drink _water_? Ever wonder why some of the gods have overlapping duties? Because no one wants to be the god of non-alcoholic refreshments."3

Dream or no, this woman was very difficult. She was making it hard for me to prove my worthiness, if only to myself.

I narrowed my eyes. "You claim to be Hestia. One of the girls prayed to you tonight. What did she ask for?"

A guilty expression crossed the imposter's face. "You can't possibly expect me to listen to all the prayers. Some things are just beyond my control. I'm a goddess of the hearth! How am I supposed to clear pimples? If you want a cozy fire or a flashy fireworks show, then I can help. If you want to attract a kind husband, I can't do anything for you. All I can say is, don't marry any man, just have your fun and run off before he knows what hit him."

"I should hit men?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes," she chuckled. She looked me over. "I'd wait a few centuries though. How old are you, fifty?"

"Eight."

"Fifty eight?"

"Just eight."

"I keep forgetting that you humans have the life span of a fly."

I decided that the gods must have struck this woman with madness, probably for the crime of brutalizing innocent males. This matter was clearly beyond my control. "I will shout for the guards." Again.

"They're sleeping, in case you haven't noticed." With that, she made to leave. I scrambled to follow but she raised a hand. "You stay and watch the hearth." And so, my feet somehow obeyed although my mind had no desire to do so.

I spent the rest of the night eventless and gradually drifted off to sleep once more. I dreamt that one of the bulls from the frescoes was chasing me around the throne room. Hence I was relieved to wake up in the morning to the usual chatter in the megaron.

I rushed over to the wine jars, stood on my tiptoes, and peered inside of each. One of them was empty, although they were filled each night. I backed away and bowed when the Key Bearer to All the Goddesses and the Key Bearer to Hestia walked in.4 A group of slaves and dakoroi followed at their heels.5 My eyes lit up when I saw my best friend Eupheme among the former. She smiled and gave a little wave as everyone began to prepare the room for the day's activities.

The Key Bearer to All the Goddesses (often referred to as the KBAG in palace lingo) patted my cheek, which was severely bumpy from having leaned against one of the stucco columns all night. "Fell asleep, did you," she clucked. "The gods will be very angry."

"But they were not, Holiest Mother," I said eagerly. "At least, Hestia was not. She came to me in the night-."

The head klawiphoroi started to laugh, which prompted the slaves and dakoroi to do the same. However, Eupheme and the Key Bearer to Hestia (KBH) looked slightly anxious.

"Silly girl," the KBAG scorned. "The gods only appear before great men and beautiful maidens. Know now that you are neither. Do not tell lies or the gods shall be very angry."

I swelled with indignation. "I would not dare lie! She wore a belt of purple, I could not wake the guards, my feet couldn't move…" Eupheme frantically gestured at me to hold my tongue but I rambled on. "And the jar of wine, she drank it all, it was full last night, you checked it yourself, Holiest Mother-."

"You drank the libation wine?" the KBAG cried. "The gods shall be absolutely furious!" She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. "I must think of a suitable punishment to appease the gods."

The Key Bearer to Hestia spoke up in her hushed, reverent tone. "Phassa could not have possible drank all that wine. She is very lucid, and the jar is bigger than she. As you said yourself, the gods only appear before heroes and noble beauties. She should not be punished for mistaking a dream for reality. She is just a little girl who has not been in the palace for long."

The KBH was short, but drew herself up to her full height. Her soft voice required everyone to lean in to hear her, almost as if they were bowing at her. She held her head high as if her very presence made everything holy. Thus, I could see that her words were having an effect on her superior.

"Perhaps I was rash," the KBAG conceded. "Nonetheless, she fell asleep while she should have been guarding the hearth. For this offense she must be purified or the wrath of the gods shall taint us all."

"Very wise, Holiest Mother," the KBH bowed and dismissed me.

I trudged away to the baths room, which was situated next to the toilet room for some unsanitary reason. When I had first come to the palace, I had been convinced that the toilet room was a place where servants such as I had to perform grueling work. It turned out that my assessment had not been entirely incorrect.

I shuddered at the rows of sunken basins that were lined up against the wall. I hated baths. Mother and my oldest sister would often have to hunt me down and throw me into the pond, fully clothed and screaming. Although the lice in my hair made me itch, I had named most of them and did not like to let them drown.

Even the novelty of splashing around in a magic pool that filled itself with water did not appeal to me. Instead, I perfunctorily swished my hands in a bowl of water and tried to sneak out. To my great misfortune, or perhaps the will of the gods, I was accosted by a group of slaves who had apparently been sent to check on me.

"Making more trouble!" cried their leader. "You must be purified or you will bring curses upon us all."

They stripped me down and plopped me into one of the basins that were clearly marked for purification with a distinct blue and red pattern. I glared as one woman pried a round stone tablet from the wall, making water trickle forth from the hole. I hunkered miserably and crossed my arms.

The slaves chattered and laughed as they washed me with rough cloths and holy oils.

"Aren't you a chubby little thing!" One of them tickled me under the chin. "No wonder your father couldn't afford to keep you."

I refrained from the desire to bite her finger and settled for sulking instead. I figured I was already in enough trouble.

Soon, the Key Bearer to Hestia herself came. She hovered over the bath and demanded to know absolutely everything that had happened last night, how the woman looked, what she wore, and every other little detail that only a Mycenaean would have bothered to want to know.

As if to cleanse me of my sins, she picked up a cloth and began to scrub me a little too hard. "It was all your imagination. Your descriptions don't match at all," she insisted. She kept her eyes fastened on my shoulder, which was rapidly becoming pink from her exertions.

"How would you know, Holy Mother? I thought no mortal has ever seen Hestia," I said curiously.

She blinked, then opened and shut her mouth. She took a moment to answer. "There are men far greater than you who know these things anyway."

"But that wine jar was full at the beginning of the night. I think one of the klawiphoroi was testing me by getting one of the slaves to dress up."

"None of us would ever commit the sacrilege of letting a slave wear purple."

I sighed with disappointment. I could think of no more explanations.

She leaned down so we were face to face. "I know that you want to believe that you were honored by a divine presence. But it simply _does not happen_. Dreams can seem very real, especially at your age."

"Do the gods ever walk among us anymore?"

"Of course they do."

"Perhaps some day, if I am very good, I shall meet one."

"Only if you are very, very good. Gods have no reason to appear before little savages."

"Yes, Holy Mother," I said meekly.

"You ask too many questions," she sighed.

"And there is no question you cannot answer," I said with genuine admiration.

She almost smiled.

I had no reason to doubt her wisdom for she was holy and ancient, perhaps thrice my age.

When the ladies finally let me out of that terrible bath, I scurried off before they could brush my hair.

* * *

1 One mustn't feel that it is presumptuous of the wanax to require that everyone say "may zeus favor his reign" after mentioning him. In the faraway land of Calormen, any mention of their king, the Tisroc, is always followed by the phrase "may he live forever." Both the wanax and the Tisroc employ wistful thinking.

2 Technically, two thirds of the lemon would suffice, as much as a lemon can suffice for such purposes.

3 On the mornings that follow bacchanals of unusually heavy alcohol consumption, Dionysus occasionally swears to become the god of grape juice and abstinence. Fortunately, he always recovers from these brief bursts of alcohol-induced madness.

4 The title of "Key Bearer to All the Goddesses" would be more accurate if it were changed to "Key Bearer to All the Goddesses that are Important Enough to Have a High Priestess (and a set of six dakoroi) Assigned to Them."

5 Although, according to the main character's personal experience, there was not that much of a difference between being a dakoroi and a common slave.


	2. Eurystheus

I was certain that the KBAG was still angry at me for the little affair with the wine jar and my claiming to have seen a goddess. Therefore of all the five other dakoroi that could have been sent to represent Hestia, I was somehow chosen to be anywhere near a ceremony in which the honoree himself might choose to grace us with his most undesired presence. I kept feeling sorry for myself until I saw the priests who had to perform the actual ritual.

Their black robes and hoods were as dark as the night, but not as black as the heart of the god to whom they paid homage. The prostrated worshippers beat their palms before a deep pit to ensure their prayers and curses would be heard by the Unseen One, the only deity whose name was dangerous to speak aloud. These supplicants were not evil; they did what had to be done. It was important to placate the god of the underworld, for every mortal would meet him sooner or later, preferably much later. Despite the warm sunshine, I shivered from my position behind the altar.

The pilgrims chanted over and over again as each offering was made before the pit. A masked man turned his head away and slit the throat of a little black lamb. The terrified wails of the helpless animal broke my heart, but I could not tear my eyes away from the gruesome sight. I had often watched my parents slaughter animals on our farm, but none to be sent directly to the terrible underworld. The lamb twitched feebly as its spurting blood was dripped into the bowels of the earth. A pig squealed when it met a similar fate.

The head priest hacked a leg off of each beast and put them in a basket that was almost as long as I was tall. "For Hestia," he announced. "May she forever keep our hearths burning."

On cue, I stepped forward and accepted the offerings. Due to reasons that accounted to "the gods work in mysterious ways," and "you're too little to understand," a part of any sacrifice had to be set aside for Hestia, for whom I slaved day and night. Or, more accurately, for the senior dakoroi who invoked the goddess' name as an excuse to boss me around.

"Hestia accepts this offer from the hand of… of Hades," I recited carefully. Everyone flinched when I spoke the second name. The priest and I bowed at each other and I started my long march back to the palace. By the decree of the wanax, may-Zeus-favor-his-reign, all rituals honoring the dreaded lord of the dead had to be performed well outside of the citadel gates so that any curses could not reach the royal family.

I struggled under the weight of my burden as I climbed the steeeep, looong ramp that led to the main gate of the fortress. I paused to wave at the slaves who built weapons, pressed oil, and carved statues in the workhouses that were scattered next to the ramp. These people were considerably dirtier than the ones who worked inside the palace proper and I envied them greatly.

When I approached the gate, I cut straight to the front of the line of carts and chariots. There was usually some traffic to and from the palace since it could not accommodate everyone who had official business during the day. Everyone glared at me but such was the privilege of a priestess, lowly dakoroi or not. The gods could not be kept waiting. The people in line began to grumble and clamor at the guards to put me in my place.

The head sentry scowled crankily. Of course, if I had to wear a snug kilt with red and blue flounces, fluffy tassels, and gold discs along the edges, then I, too, would have been in a foul mood. I tried not to stare too hard at the spear clutched in the guard's left hand or the sword and knife strapped to his waist. How many weapons did one man need?

His identically dressed (and armed) partners stared me down. _The insolent little thing_, I knew they were thinking. _Flittering in and out of the citadel while we're stuck guarding it against pompous courtiers and hopeful peasants_.

"I am a dakoroi of Hestia," I told them, as if my uniform did not make it obvious. I lifted my pass, a clay tablet hung around my neck.

"Where does that accent come from?" the ranking soldier demanded. He spoke with the grandstanding air of the recently promoted.

"Eleusis," I answered with resignation. I knew what was coming. I had quickly learned that Mycenaeans tended to be suspicious of outsiders.

"Why do you not serve in the Athenian palace. Do you not harbor loyalties towards Theseus?"

_Zeus does favor his reign_, I thought treacherously. "The Athenian palace needed men, not maidens. I am loyal to the gods and the high king Eurystheus, who is the highest vessel of the gods."

Although the guards knew very well I served in the palace, they often liked to make a Very Dramatic Example of foreigners such as myself in case a spy was lurking around to infiltrate the defenses. I put on my best innocent face to meet their best fierce faces.

The merry summer weather did nothing to soften the glare of the imposing rock walls that flanked us on either side, nor that of the men who guarded said walls. I hoped for a distraction, perhaps the two lions carved above the gate would leap out of the stone relief and devour all these soldiers who had failed to make the cut for real warfare.

"I'm keeping my eyes on you," the leader said finally. "I think you're suspicious." With a sharp gesture, he waved me through.

The wooden gates opened to reveal a little roofed court that provided a bright contrast to the drab gray fortifications outside.

The entire citadel was like an abalone shell I had seen once. It was dull and rocky on the outside but beautifully multicolored on the inside. The people were the opposite, bright on the outside, dull (and irritable) on the inside.

As I panted and trod along the uphill road, I occasionally leaned against the mighty columns of red stucco that kept charioteers from straying off the path. Just in case someone did do so, there were plenty of mean looking warriors marching around.

I squinted at the palace, a massive stone structure that perched precariously at the top of the craggy hill. From the outside, it looked as if a giant had randomly stuck terraces on it and propped them up with columns of all different lengths. I willed the entire thing to slide down towards me so I would not have to walk any further. At times like these, I missed the green meadows and farmlands of Eleusis where there were stretches of untouched (and relatively flat) land.

When I finally reached the palace entry, I had to pass inspection at another gate. Once I entered, I squeezed through the minor crowd that usually filled up the narrow hallways and cramped rooms. The palace was buzzing with slaves who were always carrying something, priests who were always foretelling doom, and tourists who were always gawking. Business as usual.

"It's a legitimate business expenditure," I overhead a merchant saying. "When I work with these foreigners, they expect gifts."

"You want a tax cut for the bribes you pay to your trading partners?" the official replied acidly.5

"Please let my daughter work here for one of the gods," someone begged.

"The summer is almost over, you should have brought her three moons ago," snapped a priest.

I accidentally wound up by the megaron when I was actually trying to get to the Archives Room of the west wing. After all, the palace was designed to direct everyone to the central block of the palace. If one had any other destination in mind, it was like navigating through a labyrinth built for a minotaur. However, instead of running into a half bull, I often encountered people with similarly short tempers. Most of them bore cranky expressions to rival those featured in the frescoes that boasted glorious scenes of war and hunting.

"No, no, no!" a scribe shouted. "The census figures are all wrong. That breed of dog doesn't counts as a household pet."

I tracked my steps back and finally made it to the chamber where all the sacrifices were processed and tracked before they were either eaten or burnt.

"Do not bounce about so," one of the priests scolded as soon as I entered. He stood at a table covered with rows of different locks of hair. He was carefully measuring each chunk, making notes on a tablet, and tying each bundle with a ribbon. Peasant worshipers often left pieces of their hair outside the citadel so that their offerings could be blessed by a priest.

He suddenly froze in mid task. "Boy!" he barked at one of the slaves. "I told you to make more brown ribbons. Locks of hair are usually made to Artemis. Her ribbons must be _brown_, not this _orangish brown_. Orange is for Athena!"

The slave bowed and rushed off to dye some more strips of _brown_.

Most of the other people in the room were bent over looming stacks of tablets. When the Key Bearer to Hestia saw me, she acknowledged me with a deliberate nod. I ducked my head back, it seemed to be the polite thing to do.

"A tribute to Hestia from the Rich One," I reported. I measured, weighed, and logged in the sacrifices but the KBH stopped me with a pointed look.

"Your figures are wrong," she murmured. "Have you already forgotten that two comes after one? Have we not taught you letters and numbers for the past three moons?"

I hung my head. "It is only off by one number," I offered.

The Key Bearer to all the Goddesses swooped over. "What have I told you?" she demanded. "You must leave nothing unaccounted for. You must note every drop of oil, grain of wheat, and whisker of boar. If the records are not meticulous, the gods will be angry."

"Why is it so important to keep records of all the offerings? Won't the gods know what we give them anyway?" I asked.

"The gods are too busy to keep track of such trivial things."

"If it is so trivial why does it matter?"

"The gods are always watching."

"Why would they watch over something so trivial?" I was starting to get confused..

A priest frowned at the KBAG. "Do you not train your girls to stay silent? And why are they running around unguarded all the time? It is a horrid waste of eunuchs."

"No one is worried about their virginities. There is a reason they are not betrothed by now," quipped the Key Bearer to Demeter. "Especially this one." She smiled and winked at me.

The KBD seemed to like me since I was from Eleusis. After all, there was a shrine to Demeter in my home village. However, the priestess' answer stung, well meant it may be. Indeed, my father should have promised me to someone three years ago, rather he had sent me to a faraway palace so someone else would have to feed and clothe me. My eyes and hair are the color of mud, I suppose this did not make me very attractive to potential suitors.

"Shall I take the meat to the kitchens?" I asked hopefully. The kitchen was one of my favorite places in the palace.

"Yes," said the KBH.

I began to trot away with a happy skip in my step.

"And don't forget to purify yourself," the KBAG called.

I sighed.

#

Ch. 3

Towards the end of summer, the leaves starting to change color as well as the moods of the senior palace staff. They grew snappier, anxious, and excitable.

"The wanax is coming," the KBH would say. "You mustn't let the soot build up like that in his presence."

It had never bothered her before.

"Fan the fire," I was told. So I fanned the perfectly roaring fire.

"Not like that," chided Stamatia. She made a dramatic show of flailing her arms. I imitated her.

"Why haven't these sacrifices been logged?" she demanded.

"You told me clean out the libation basins-."

"No, you always do the sacrifices first!"

The KBH chose four of the dakoroi to tend to the fire while the wanax was in the throne room. She picked the two oldest girls, Eupheme, and me since we were the youngest.

"The wanax fears assassination," she said. "The guards will be less likely to pick on you."

So, one would think.

The KBAG, KBHestia, KBHera, and Head Slave for Zeus, and a handful of other priests, slaves, and courtiers awaited the grand procession in the courtyard.

"The wanax!" the herald cried. "Behold Eurystheus, the Blessed Sovereign of Mycenae and Tiryns, First Brother of Royal Brothers, chief commander of the fighting people, and High Priest of His subjects!"

Eurystheus, the Blessed Sovereign of Mycenae and Tiryns, First Brother of Royal Brothers, chief commander of the fighting people, and High Priest of his subjects, wore a giant diadem of gold and sparkling jewels that came down to his noble brow. His tunic had alternating patterns of purple, yellow, and blue. The bottom half of his skirt had an endless number of tiny pleats that spread to reveal a complicated gold pattern whenever he moved his legs.

When I saw him up close, I was disappointed to see that he was just an ordinary man in extraordinary clothing. He was skinny and diminutive, almost frail looking. His generals towered over him. Nonetheless, he had a noble bearing and a handsome face.

#

The actor portraying Heracles was completely naked and smeared with brown paint. He lumbered around with exaggerated movements and bent at the waist with his arms hanging down. Everyone laughed as he ran about the stage and made a show of scratching his head. Then he gave a long speech about how incompetent he was. "I killed my own wife and children in a fit of madness," he concluded. "I must win forgiveness my performing ten labors that King Eurystheus puts on my head.

Then they showed various scenes of him accomplishing his various tasks with dumb luck and divine intervention.

"Zeus is my father and will do anything to see me succeed!" he blabbered to a crowd that booed and threw wine at him.

It all led up to a grand finale with the 9th labor.

"Bring me the girdle of Hippolyte," actor-Eurystheus thundered. "This shall be your 9th Labor."

Theseus was portrayed similarly but with a cheap looking diadem on his mussed head. I was mortified! Theseus was considered a great king in Eleusis and Heracles was practically a legend.

Heracles blundered around with the Amazons and made a dopey show of killing Hippolyte by accident. He and Theseus ran around in circles while the Amazons (represented by wild looking women, also smeared in paint) shook their crude spears angrily.

"Now that the Amazons are already angry, I shall infuriate them even more by taking a pretty trophy!" Theseus announced. He grabbed Antiope and ran with Heracles onto the boat.

When the wanax began to chuckle, everyone roared with laughter.

I had never heard so much forced laughter in my life. Personally, I could not see what was so funny.

The actor-Heracles returned to the actor-Eurystheus and presented him with the girdle. Then actor Eurytheus presented the prop to the real king, who was sitting in the audience.

"In honor of the princess's birthday, this play has been performed. The tale of how her gift was acquired."

Eurystheus turned to his oldest daughter. "Nine years ago I sent Heracles to bring me this very girdle. I have been saving it for this very day when my daughter has become a woman. It is my desire that you wear this on your wedding night. It will make you unbearably beautiful to your husband."

Admete looked bored.

"I want a pet tiger," she said.

"You already have a pet leopard."

"I want a tiger!" she screamed.

"Then you shall have one," he chuckled. "Child, your husband shall be kept very busy with your demands."

One of his sons pulled out a sword and started waving it. "May I have a tiger too, Father?"

"Peace, child, you'll poke someone's eye out," replied the king. "Of course you can have a tiger."

I shuddered. Admete's pet leopard already terrorized many of the servants.

#

The KBH was usually calm and collected but today she was very agitated. The Key Bearer to Hera was giving her own dakoroi similar instructions.

"Wait in the porch until a guard waves you through. Do not linger in the anteroom. Do not make eye contact with anyone. Go through the door one at a time. Go straight to the hearth. Do not make any hasty moves, or the guards may strike you down. Tend the hearth quietly and discreetly. Do not speak. Do not make noise. Do not be seen. When the wanax arrives, _bow_. Never turn your back at the wanax, the throne, or the hearth. Don't look too fidgety, or the guards will get suspicious."

I tried to remember this all and attempted to follow the instructions to the letter. I kept my head bowed as I took my station. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the wanax leaning forward in his throne as a lawagetas approached him and saluted in the halfhearted way that generals have.

The wanax did not look pleased. "General Machia," he said softly. "Surely you do not come before me to ask for more gold?"

"My great king, may Zeus favor your reign," the lawagetas started. "Surely you are willing to spare any expense for the defense of our great state. There can be no price for our is necessary as you are in a precarious position. Argos is keen to reclaim Tiryns. Heracles and his children want to claim your throne in the name of Zeus' true will. Heracles has already dethroned many kings and replaced them with puppets. He killed Laomedon of Troy and put Priam on the throne. He defeated the Bebrycians and gave most of their land to Lycus, who renamed it Heraclea. He took land from the Thracians and gave it to the sons of Androgeus. He is toppling kings and putting his own men in power to lead a rebellion against you."

"How is it that Heracles has so much time to leave debauched maidens, bastard children, and scorched corpses in his wake? I have kept him busy with impossible labors and yet he single handedly manages to topple kings," he noted coldly. "Why is that one wanderer needs no supplies from a treasury and yet my generals keep begging for more?"

"My king, Heracles has the backing of Athens," the general pointed out. "His sons are excellent warlords. He is not as alone as it may seem."

"General, you are as coy as the coveted whore who blushes like a maiden and spurns every advance for a higher price. You keep relieving me of my gold, but never quite my lust. You need new weapons for your men, so I give you enough bronze to arm them a hundred times over. You need to feed your men, so I give you enough grain to feed them for a hundred years. You need new uniforms, so I have a hundred spinster spin. If you desire your patron to empty his purse of silk, you must first empty his purse of flesh. Where is my glory, my land, my streams of tribute?"

"When you give shiny trinkets to a whore, you see the reward immediately. But attaining glory takes time and risk."

"The scribes keep records that are vaster than my stores of gold, and yet there is so much that goes unaccounted for. Do your men have two stomachs? Does the gold I give sink back into the earth?"

"Our spies abroad reassure us that the Amazons are ready to retaliate against Heracles and Theseus. For his 9th labor, he stole a most treasured girdle and killed Hippolyte in the process. His companion Theseus took Antiope as a prize. If we join this fight, we will surely attain much gold from the savages.

"What gold do the Amazons have?" Eurystheus scoffed. "If they are willing to fight over a girdle, then they must have little wealth indeed."

There was silence before the wanax spoke again.

"So Theseus," he said. "Will he be able to fight off the barbarian army? He grows in popularity and power. How can I undermine him?

"Only 8 seasons ago, I aided him in his campaign against Thebes. But that was only to appease our allies Orchomenos, which is still a bitter rival of Thebes. Did Theseus not accompany Heracles on his journey to the Amazons? I do not like this friendship."

The advisor bowed. "It would not be wise to advertise any animosity against Athens and Theseus."

"Indeed not," the wanax replied. "Is there no dirt on Theseus? I do recall how Orchomenos has caused the pestilence upon Thebes most beautifully. I do wish I could send a plague to Athens as well? It's so hard to smuggle in a diseased corpse. And where to find one at this time of the year?"

We must consult the gods, he decided. "Priestess!" he barked. Stamatia stepped forward and bowed, although she had suddenly turned very pale.

"What say you on the imminent war upon Athens? Shall I stand by my old ally or watch the Amazons tear him down?

"My king," she said. "When Orchomenos sent pestilence to Thebes, the people thought it to be the doing of the gods. Perhaps Athens could suffer the same fate as well."

"Yes but where will be find a plagued body. It's not the season."

One of the advisors balked. "You ask the opinion of a mere girl? What does she know of the affairs of men?" He was one of the newer faces in the palace who was apparently unfamiliar with the wanax's standard procedure.

Eurystheus tapped his head patiently. "The gods speak to them. The gods speak to all of us, but men are too busy with mortal affairs to hear these divine voices. A woman is simple enough to hear, and obey."

What he didn't know was that the KBAG had carefully trained each of us to give whatever answer he obviously wanted.

***


	3. Hestia

As usual, I was fanning the fire, trying to be invisible, while the wanax and his advisors went on and on about war, gold, and war.

"My lord," the messenger spoke. "I bring good news. Theseus has accompanied his friend Pirithous into the underworld. They plan to rescue a goddess who had been held prisoner by Polydegmon."

I shuddered at the mention of the Host of Many, the god of the dead was not one who was to be mentioned lightly.

"Menestheus rules in Theseus' stead," the messenger continued. "He has already fashioned himself as the wanax of Athens."

The wanax leaned forward. "What sort of man is Menestheus? Does he command the love and respect of the Athenians? Does he hold any ambitions over my sphere?"

News of Theseus' newest adventure spread throughout the palace like wildfire. At night, all the dakoroi could talk about was why Theseus would do such a stupid thing. There was also much speculation over this mystery goddess, whose name was unknown.

"He has gone mad," Eupheme declared. "He desires himself that goddess for his bride. But if she is one of the banished Titanedes, she will be a giantess."

"That isn't so," I said stubbornly. "I am from Eleusis, I know better than any of you."

Suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Eleusis was practically a part of Athens, after all.

"Theseus, glorious king of Athens, is an initiate of the Eleusian mysteries," I continued. "As are my father and mother." I paused as I thought back to distant times, before I was sent to Mycenae. "One of the secrets of the Eleusian mysteries is this, there was a goddess, borne of Zeus and Demeter, who was banished by the Olympians for defying Zeus himself…"

"Demeter doesn't have a daughter," someone cut in. "I would know, I'm one of her dakoroi. She has a son, a talking horse."

"She does have a daughter," I insisted. "But after she fell from grace, no mortals were permitted to speak of her, only a few will whisper of her. She is nearly forgotten, except by those in Eleusis, where we kept a shrine for Demeter…"

"This is the silliest thing I've heard," Stamatia snapped. She did not like being out of the center of attention for long. She pulled the lamp towards her face so that the light shone eerily. I recognized this as her storytelling pose. She liked to tell scary stories, especially to us younger girls. She liked to pick on me especially, I was known for being naïve.

"When the Olympians defeated the Titans, they were told, you may have what is above Gaia, around Gaia, and under Gaia, but you cannot have the earth herself. Hence the three sons of Cronus drew lots to divide the world between them. Zeus won the skies, as is proper for the king of the gods. Poseidon received the seas and poor Polynomos was given the miserable realm of the dead."

We all shivered at the mention of _him_. Stamatia paused and closed her eyes as if pained by the wails of the damned.

"Polynomos found that the underworld awaited him with two thrones, even though he had no wife. The presence of a second throne means that there must be a queen waiting to claim her kingdom, but Hades did not wish to share his power. Hence he swore to marry any woman who could sit upon it. Of course, he cast the throne within the hidden bowels of the earth where no being could reach it."

"That doesn't make any sense," someone interrupted. "Even if he were to take a wife, she too would be subject to his rule."

"Things work differently among the gods," Stamatia snapped.

She took a deep breath and resumed her storytelling voice. "There is a legend that the throne waits patiently, collecting dust. However, it will not be claimed easily. Even so, what woman would want to rule that bleary kingdom and bed its wretched king?" She stared right at me and held her hand out like claws. "And if you do not wash my robes, Phassa, he will come kidnap you and make you his wife."

I shrieked with terror.

"Don't say that, you'll give her nightmares. It's just a made up story," scolded one of her friends.

I washed her robes anyway, just in case.

#

For seven years Menestheus ruled Athens while Theseus presumably languished in the underworld for his crime of attempting to kidnap a goddess held prisoner by none other than the lord of the dead himself. Our own king Eurystheus took comfort in this, for Menestheus was not as popular as Theseus had been. Nor did the stand in king show any ambitions of expansion beyond the sphere that had been given to him- albeit on a temporary basis. Then on a breezy fall day, everything changed.

When the herald announced the arrival of Heracles, all the color drained from the wanax's face. "It cannot be," he whispered. "No one returns from the underworld." In fury, he threw a man sized vase across the room. He clutched his bleeding hand, shards had cut into it.

A man bounded in. full of energy. He was cheerful, dind of big and brawny. He had an air of innocent oblivion about him, like a large puppy that did not realize it had broken all the jars by running through. He carried a thrashing bag under his arm.

"Are you a ghostly spirit?" Eurystheus demanded. "You cannot be of flesh and blood or you would not dare to not bow."

"That I am, as is this dog your ordered that I deliver for my 10th and final labor," came the reply. He cracked the bag open and the wanax peered inside. I craned my neck but could see nothing.

"This cannot possibly be Cerberus," he roared. "What trickery is this?"

"There is but one three headed dog," Heracles with a wide eyed look. "If you do not believe me, go ask Hades yourself. I have finished my labors, I am free. As is Theseus, whom I met in the underworld. He is back in Athens, minus a good portion of his thighs." He chuckled and shook his head.

The wanax looked so angry that I thought his eyes would bulge out of his head.

"Alas dear cousin," he said. "You look at me with those accusing eyes, you mock me, you think I sit on your throne. But you forget who I am. I am the son of Sthenelus, who was the son of Perseus himself.

Heracles was smiling amiably, as if he had no idea what Eurystheus was talking about.

"No matter what trinkets you bring me, which kings you topple, I am and always will be the rightful ruler of Mycenae and Tiryns. By blood and divine will…" he shouted and went on and on until Heracles was finally saw himself out.

"Now Theseus is indebted to Heracles," the wanax fumed. "How is Menestheus reacting to Theseus' return?"

"He is very unhappy and refuses to relinquish power. Furthermore, Theseus has invited the Heraclidae to court as honored guests."

"More like bodyguards," he growled. "He is trying to assert his kingship over Menestheus. This is a grave threat. Heracles," he said. "He will be deified after death. How I tried to kill him. Now I wish to delay his death. But Athens is weakened with the struggle between Menestheus and Theseus. One has never been strong, the other has been disgraced. How can one kingdom have two kings?"

"We must attack first," said one of the generals. He had a grim face. "Theseus has sided with Heracles. Heracles keeps campaigning against states and replacing kings. This is unstable. He is setting up puppet governments everywhere, establishing himself as a shadow emperor. A king must fear assassination, but a roaming power behind the throne does not, especially if he will join the ranks of Olympus upon his death. His children will have an even strong claim on your throne. You must declare war on Athens for it is harboring the enemy. The Heraclidae are the enemy."

"No, my lord," insisted another general. I think his name was Machia. He had the coldest gaze I had ever seen. "Theseus may have disgraced himself, but he is still an icon of heroism, the son of Aegeus. To many, he is still loved. We must secretly encourage the factionalism between Theseus and Meneseus until they wage war upon each other. Then we shall invade with the claims of assisting our old ally Theseus. The troops do love a good everyone is killed, you must take the throne. This way you will end up as the Heraclidae's new master. When he tragically dies in battle, you can bask in his glory, rule in his name. Eurystheus, High King of Mycenae, Tiryns, and Athens."

Eurystheus narrowed his eyes. "How is it that my dear cousin has enough time to fight wars when he is so busy making children? His short blade must be very quick to penetrate. Priestess Two! What say you of this Heraclidae!" He stared straight at me. apparently I had been promoted from Priestess Four.

Oh dear. It was vital that I soothe his temper. I concocted what made the most sense. "The Heraclidae are but roaming bandits," I stammered. "They are sons who do not know their fathers, thus they claim a heroic man who will become a god. They are but a loose army without a cause or state. They have no divinity, nor are they better armed or skilled than an ordinary soldier."

"But now they have the Athenian navy!" the wanax shouted.

Nothing I can do about it, I thought. Instead, I bowed and fanned the fire more fervently. "The gods shall see you through," I said. It was my default answer when I ran out of good replies.

##

As much as I tried to purge my mind of impure thoughts, I could not resist them. I craved the even great taboo of masculine flesh. I was not sure what I was supposed to do with it, but I liked to see it. Surely there was nothing wrong with just looking, although it was far from satisfactory, especially since my enjoyment was obscured by the veil that had covered my face since the day I had seen first blood flow from my womb.

#

I stood next to the altar as the worshippers came forth to be blessed. Some of them brought small offerings, which I placed into the sacred hearth with as much grandeur as I could muster. Of course, the temple preferred coins more than anything else. I almost yelped when one woman threw herself on her knees and pressed a lock of hair into my hands. "Will the goddess hear a wife's prayer?" she wailed.

"Speak and you will be heard," I replied automatically. For once I was glad for my veil, for it hid my yawns from both mortals and gods.

She asked for the usual, a healthy and unified family, a strong son, blah blah blah.

I assured her of Hestia's blessing and prodded her to the side so I could receive the next party in line. A group of five men stepped forth. They all donned the leather sandals and cotton tunics commonly worn by important soldiers. One of them was a swaggering young man with a bound pig squealing on his shoulders. I took in the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, his long, lean limbs, and the cheery smile that lit up his sculpted face. If only I was the pig! This thought vanished immediately when the man gave an exaggerated grunt and heaved the struggling animal onto the altar.

The supplicant at the head of the group was not very old, but his face was tan and lined from the sun. "Will Hestia hear a soldier's prayer?" he asked grimly.

"Speak and you shall be heard." I eyed the handsome one, his kilt stretched across his-.

"We offer sacrifice to Hestia so that she will keep our city, army, and families whole. May our people find strength in our struggles. May our ranks fight unified in the face of battle. May our families stay intact should we men be sent to war."

I gestured at them to proceed. The warriors bent down to scoop a handful of barley from the sack propped against the front of the altar. Then they sprinkled the grain over the animal to show that the killing was not done out of violence. When the smiling handsome one leaned over, I simply could not resist. In a lightning movement, I reached over and--.

"Oww!" He straightened up and glowered at his comrades. "Did you pinch me?"

"It must have been a bug," the leader said. He gave me a stern look.

"Big bug," Handsome muttered. He followed his commander's gaze.

Embarrassed, I accidentally knocked over a jar in my haste to resume the ceremony. I sloshed water over the pig's head to make it nod in agreement to being sacrificed. Then I plunged my hand into the bag of barley, pulled out the knife that was kept hidden inside, and drew the blade against the animal's throat in a way I hoped was seductive. I sliced out the entrails and examined them.

"Hestia is pleased with the offering," I affirmed. I actually had no idea what she thought of it, but if I stared hard enough, the bloody guts seemed to indicate their approval.

-soldiers eat the pig?

The soldiers turned to leave and I stared after the one I liked. Right before he reached the gates, he looked straight back at me. He smiled and winked. I was smitten.

#

I kept thinking about that fine soldier in the days that passed. It gave me more reason to envy the girls who were daring enough to sneak out at night to mingle with boys. The local army camp happened to have plenty, but the fear of Tartarus kept me well behaved. I watched as my fellows flung aside their veils and hiked up their robes.

Eupheme fidgeted. "I'll go if you go," she offered.

"I don't know," I replied. "I'll go if you go too."

"Don't be silly, girls!" Stamatia cried. "All the gods are asleep at this hour, no one will see us."

"But after we die, we will be punished grievously."

"Just make a sacrifice now and then, all will be forgiven. As long as his penis doesn't spout liquid inside of you, it's not real coitus."

His penis spouts liquid? How disgusting. Perhaps this whole coupling business was overrated.

However, that was all that Eupheme needed to hear.

One of the older girls sliced the top off of a lemon and gave the rind to Eupheme. "Don't let it slip while he's in you," she instructed.

My friend looked at me. "Are you certain you're not coming?

"I think I will ask Hestia for a portent."

This was only way to know for certain. After the girls left, I placed a lock of hair into the sacred fire and asked for some kind of answer. Hestia had sent someone before, perhaps she would do so again. I waited and waited, but nothing happened. Disappointed, I made my way through the palace and back to the sleeping quarters.

I was so deep in thought I almost knocked into a slave was taking a tray full of cucumbers into the kitchens. A pair of throwing balls rolled down and two of them stopped next to the pillars. I picked them up and tossed them back to the boys who were playing with it. I gave a start when I thought one of the bulls in the frescoes appeared to rear up and mount another, but realized my mind must have been playing tricks.

#

One night, when I had hearth watching duty again, I was on the verge of nodding off to sleep when I spied a familiar figure step out of the shadows. It was the very woman I had met nine years ago, but she looked not a day older. Obviously, Hestia used the same messenger to communicate with mortals. She looked at me with annoyance before hopping onto the altar and taking an apple from the basket.

"How many portents do you need to get the idea?" she snapped.

I still was not convinced. Mortal this woman may not be, but surely Hestia would not associate with people as crass as her. Perhaps this demigoddess was actually a messenger of Aphrodite, pretending to be sent by Hestia.

"You are bold to claim to represent Hestia," I retorted. "The gods shall be angry indeed."

She shook her head. "You mortals know nothing of me. I may dress like a virgin, but that doesn't mean I am one." We both paused to look at her attire, which was sooty and unflattering. " The phallus is a wonderful thing. Too bad it comes with a man." She held up her half eaten apple. "A man is like a fruit. The longer you keep him, the more rotten he gets. Most women used to be smart enough to know this, but then man created marriage as a means to lord over women. Hence I am a sworn maiden." With that, she dramatically tossed the core into the sacred fire.

I almost snorted. If she was Hestia, I was Zeus' left butt cheek. I decided to play along and catch her off guard. "But you do not speak of men as if you were a virgin," I prodded.

"Maiden," she corrected. "A maiden is an unmarried woman. A virgin is an inexperienced person to be pitied."

"Are Artemis and Athena 'maidens' as well?"

"Artemis likes women, Athena has an iron hymen. Awful mutation, she was born in her armor, you know."

My jaw dropped. This lady, whoever she was, was claiming to be Hestia, sitting on her altar, eating her offerings, throwing trash in her sacred fire, blaspheming two other virgin goddesses, and wearing a girdle of purple without even being struck blind. Perhaps, just maybe, there was the smallest chance that she was whom she claimed. I sank to my knees, just to be safe.

"No, you're supposed to do that before men!" she quipped cheerfully.

#

When I was little, I feared the dark. Now that I was older, the dark was my ally. About six of us passed through the gate, which the guards readily opened for us, and ran through the night, laughing with anticipation. Security was very lax since only a very stupid foreigner would bother to kidnap a temple virgin. The only people up at this hour were slaves and guards. No one would believe a slave's word against that of a priestess. And the guards encouraged our nightly excursions. There were always troops camped in the vicinity outside the gates. When we arrived at the camps, I was awed by the rows of giant tents and the flying banners.

The other girls quickly disappeared into tents with young and lovely soldiers. Panicked, I grabbed Eupheme's arm before she could run off as well. I had only heard rumors here and there, I was unsure of how to acquire a man. "How is it done?" I whispered. I did not want to come off as a blundering fool.

Eupheme laughed. "The way animals do it, of course."

"I have to chase him down!?" I hate running.

"Not usually." She waved as a grinning boy tugged her away.

I was the last one left. I stayed hidden in the shadows, kept my head down, and shielded my face.

"Do not be shy, let us get a good look at you," someone encouraged. "Step into the torchlight if you are not hideously disfigured."

I refused.

_"Make sure he never gets a good look at your face," _Stamatia had lectured._ "If he remembers that he has already had you, he most likely won't have you again. Men only like new things."_

I was about to try the running method when one of the soldiers shook his head. He appeared to be a very important officer, and the grim set of his mouth was vaguely familiar. "If you were my daughter I would keep you locked in the house," he remarked.

I scowled. I did not like being the only girl who had failed to accomplish the difficult feat of mounting a man. "Feel fortunate that all men do not lock up their daughters, for then you would have no one to lie with."

He raised an eyebrow. "On second thought, your father apparently need not worry about locking you up." The eavesdroppers laughed.

I stormed away to wait elsewhere but he called out to me.

"Halt, friend. I feel that we have met. Are those the blood soaked sandals of a dakoroi? It is the giant pincher bug!"

My eyes widened as I remembered who he was. He was the leader of the men who had made the pig offering! I wondered if the handsome smiling fellow was near.

#

I made a second attempt the next night, but this time I followed an extra suggestion and held the man's wrist while staring at him "suggestively," whatever that meant. He was more of a boy really, his face was still smooth and I liked it. He was a little scrawnier than I preferred, but he would do. Anyway, the technique must have worked. He opened his tent flap, kicked out his surprised friends, and sat on his pile of blankets. I clung to his wrist with a death grip. I was determined to get this right.

"I am not going to run away," he informed me politely. As if to prove his point, he unfastened the clips at my shoulders.

"I thought you were supposed to," I replied humbly.

He didn't bother to answer. He tossed off his kilt and positioned me on all fours.

With great eagerness and just a touch of spite, I had my first carnal experience. Unfortunately, it was not a pleasant one. I squealed with indignation when I felt the piercing pain, I could not even finish. I was sore for days whenever I walked or sat down. However, I was glad that it was over with, done on my terms rather than at the mercy of an impatient husband eager to prove his virility.

After the ache faded away, I eagerly returned to the camp to find more men. However, my second time nearly convinced me that this whole coupling business was a waste of time.

The boy fumbled with himself and wiped the sweat off of his brow. "This usually does not happen," he insisted.

I examined the sticky mess he had made all over his thighs. "I am not certain, but I think you are supposed to do that after you penetrate me."

He became angry and defensive, clamoring it was my fault.

"It is your penis, not mine," I shrugged. I redressed and stood. The boy scrambled out of the bushes and tried to entice me back, but I ignored him. I had little tolerance for rude company.

Once I returned to the cluster of tents, I examined the remaining selection of the night. Too ugly, too old, too much facial hair, too dirty… All the good ones were already taken. Perhaps I could find someone from among the foot soldiers.

"Back again?"

It was him again, the grim faced general. I stopped in mid step and turned to glare at the rude brute that had made fun of me during my last visit.

"It is the maiden who wishes to be a whore," he smiled. "You must be very expensive indeed, if you cannot even find one man to lie with you."

"It would be sinful and exploitative to charge for something so pleasurable. Regardless, a whore could not be a whore without your business."

The impudent monkey laughed. "You are a righteous little girl, just like Antigone."

I gave a start at this. Antigone was one of my favorite people in recent history. Despite my great dislike for this soldier, I began to engage him in conversation about the fallen princess of Thebes. Then we started to talk about ourselves. He told me his name was Dievon, he had recently been promoted to lawagetas, and he had three children with a wife who was a few years older than me. I mentally cringed at the thought of sleeping with anyone his age. He must have been in his mid thirties, the proper age for a man to be wed to a woman younger than I, but I never did like this custom.

I told him I was from Eleusis, I was a burden to my family, and I was bored with fanning a fire all day.

"General!" someone said. I twisted around and saw a handsome, lean man striding towards us. It was the smiling soldier from the pig sacrifice!

"Lamious," Dievon nodded. "Meet Phassa, or, should I say be reacquainted with her." He smirked ever so slightly.

My shocked expression must have cued him in, for Lamious' eyes lingered over my face, my white robes, then my blood splattered sandals. He raised his eyebrows at Dievon, who rolled his eyes and nodded his head.

"Ah, it is the big bug," the younger man said. "Never have I seen a bug so pretty."

I glowed.

It was not long before Lamious and I grew intimate. Unlike all the others, he laid me down and had me face to face. Hence I thought of him as special and different. Sometimes I would even fantasize about being the only woman in his life. However, some fantasies were not worth even attempting.

Other men would boast of their battle scars, few they had. One night, my chosen bedmate for the hour twisted his leg around to show a scar on his ankle. "I got that during a campaign in Megara," he said proudly. "I fought 50 enemies at once and escaped with nothing but this."

I looked closely at the swollen pink lines. It looked more like a cat's scratch. There were many strays running around.

As I sated myself upon many others, I learned many lessons along the way. Apparently it was very important to tell every man that yes, he was the best lover, yes, his penis was the biggest, and yes, it was good, regardless of how close this was to the truth. Inevitably, I often had to lie. I had always been taught that lying was wrong, but exceptions had to be made for the sake of world peace.

"There is nothing more dangerous than a man with a bruised ego and an army," Stamatia told me darkly. "Why else would men fight wars?"

Dievon had a slightly different philosophy on the cause of war.

"When a man has power, he will do anything to keep it and attain more," he said during one of our frequent chats. Since coitus usually did not take long (with most men, at least, I often found ample time to speak with my new friend while the other girls were still engaged.)

Since Eleusis was so close to Athens, I feared that my family and home would get dragged into the inevitable war between Mycenae and Athens.

Dievon insisted that the barbarian empires that were waiting to conquer us were quietly exacerbating the hostilities between our people so we would be unable to provide a united resistance.

"But is it good to always be so united?" I questioned slowly and loudly. It was rather hard to hear over the screams of what was unmistakably a feral animal. "Eurystheus, may-Zeus-favor-his-reign, maintains his power! With a delicate alliance of nobles! Hence he can never amount to tyranny! Is it not better to have many men rule behind the throne rather than let one man rule absolute?"

"Oligarchy is too inefficient!" he shouted back. He picked an apple from the fruit platter and polished it against one of the many cushions that were scattered in his tent. When he pushed the tray towards me, I took a fig.

"Slower government! Is preferable to absolute government! Besides, if a man cannot keep his diadem to begin with! Perhaps he does not deserve it!" I bit into the fruit and savored the sweet taste. I only wished that someone would put the poor animal out of its misery, I was on the verge of becoming deaf.

"Such thought is merely an invitation for constant treason! Either way! This matter will not be resolved cleanly! Heracles has many descendants. There is but one throne of Mycenae and one of Tyrins."

Outside, the awful caterwauling only grew louder. I thought I could make out human speech, but brushed it aside, for Dievon seemed undisturbed.

I resumed the discussion. "Mycenae's sphere of influence is large enough for many petty princes! We dominate most of the Pelopponese-?!" Eleusis, for one, had no king of its own but sought direction from Athens, much like the rest of the villages in Attica.

"Hellus is but a boy of fifteen. How can he lead an army."

"If a woman is plenty old enough to bear children at that age, then a man can surely stand in battle. I for one, would rather stand on the battle line three times than give birth once."-Medea, from Euripedes.

"You have grave complaints about childbirth for one who has never undertaken it."

I looked down at my hands. "I am an old maiden of sixteen, should have born at least 3 children by now. if you men were to stop killing each other off in battle, then we women would not have to bear so many children to replenish the supply only to be gravely disappointed half the time when we bear daughters. Anyway, Hellus is plenty qualified despite his youth."

"Nothing wrong with him fighting a battle but can he rule? In war, a man will stab at you from the front. In politics, they will stab you in the back."

I frowned and twisted around to glare at the direction of the noise. I was quite certain I had heard coherent words along with the incessant cries. Words like "Heeeelp!" and "Nooooo!"

"What is that?" I bellowed.

Dievon took another bite of his apple and swept the tent flap aside. Outside, a person was being beaten! "Inter-ruh-guh-shun," he explained with his mouth bulging.

I could taste bile rising in my throat. The fig slipped from my fingers as I clamped a hand over my mouth. I quickly turned away from the sight and gave Dievon an incredulous stare. How could he tolerate this? However, he only looked puzzled and offered me a new fig.


	4. The War of Athens

The day started out normal enough. As usual, I happened to be all alone in the throne room, shoveling out mounds of ash from Hestia's hearth, all by myself, when Copreus ran in.

"Your blessing, Priestess," the herald panted. "Quick, before anyone else gets here. I'll need it when I give my news to the wanax, for he may strike me down."

I sneezed and dabbed the tears from my burning eyes. "What is it?" I asked.

"Heracles is back from the underworld," he wailed. "He has freed Theseus as well! And I'm the one who has to tell the wanax! He's coming right now!"

I guiltily glanced at the dying sparks in the hearth. The fire was supposed to be constantly roaring, ritually extinguished only in the presence of the wanax. If anyone knew I had let the fire die out, I would have more to fear than poor Copreus did. Fortunately, I was able to borrow some fire from one of the torches in the anteroom. By the time wanax and his courtiers filed into the throne room, Copreus had been sufficiently blessed, and I had a semi sacred fire burning, fueled in part by some quick thinking and a splash of libation wine.

"My king," Copreus stammered. "Heracles requests the honor of your presence."

All the color drained from the wanax's face. "It cannot be," he whispered. "No one returns from the underworld." He closed his eyes. "Grant him the honor of my presence."

A man bounded in, full of energy. I liked him immediately, he was cheerful, big and brawny. He held a thrashing bag tucked under his arm.

"Are you a ghostly spirit?" Eurystheus spat. "You cannot be of flesh and blood or you would not dare to not bow."

"Forgive me, dear cousin." Heracles bent at the waist in a (perhaps intentionally) awkward manner. Obviously he was not accustomed to bowing. "One would think that you should be bowing to me. Did Zeus not mean his own son when he said that the next to be born in the house of Perseus would be king of Mycenae and Tiryns?"

I thought Eurystheus' eyes would pop out of his head. However, Heracles roared with laughter.

"Calm, sir!" he cried merrily. "If being king causes such concern, I have no reason to covet your throne. I am glad that Hera has left me free to roam and have adventures without a diadem weighing me down."

"Do not mock me," Eurystheus hissed. "What of the 10th Labor?" He nervously eyed the sack in Heracles' arms.

"You mean 12th! Here is the pup you requested."

With a dramatic flourish, Heracles set the bag on the floor. The cutest, smallest, fluffiest dog I had ever seen, albeit with three heads and a dragon's tail. It was sleeping peacefully.

"This cannot possibly be Cerberus," Eurystheus roared. "What trickery is this?"

"There is but one three headed dog," Heracles replied. "If you do not believe me, go ask Hades yourself. I have finished my labors, I am free. As is Theseus, whom I met in the underworld. He is back in Athens, minus a good portion of his thighs." Heracles chuckled to himself although no one else even cracked a smile. "Hades had had the poor man bound to a chair! All for trying to rescue some goddess held prisoner."

"Alas _dear cousin_," Eurystheus hissed with venom in his voice. "You look at me with those accusing eyes, you mock me, you think I sit on your throne. But you forget who I am. I am the son of Sthenelus, who was the son of Perseus himself."

Heracles was smiling amiably, I had no idea what Eurystheus meant by _accusing eyes_.

"No matter what trinkets you bring me, which kings you topple, I am and always will be the rightful ruler of Mycenae and Tiryns," continued the wanax. "By blood and divine will, I shall prevail as shall my heirs."

In fury, he threw one of the man sized jars against the wall. He clutched his bleeding hand, for shards had cut into it. He shoved off the slave who tried to attend to him.

This woke the dog up, it snarled and yapped, then ran off while everyone cowered in terror.

For the first time, Heracles looked very worried. "Hades loves that dog more than his left testicle!" he wailed. "I must return the monster or the wrath of the dead shall be on us all."

"Then find it!" the wanax roared.

A crowd of slaves ran off, eager to escape his temper. If I could leave my post, I would have gladly joined the search, although my efforts would have been most half hearted.

Heracles left as well, to my chagrin. He was easy on a maiden's eyes.

"Now Theseus is indebted to Heracles," the wanax fumed. "Menestheus will surely not step aside to let Theseus take the throne once again."

He ordered the scribe to reread a letter from Menestheus, who took the throne of Athens when Theseus had descended to the underworld. It read:

My Brother Eurystheus,

For the past 7 years, I have ruled Athens while Theseus had languished in the underworld. I hear rumors that Heracles has freed Theseus, while he went to fetch Cerberus for your 10th labor. I have attempted to exile Theseus, but he has invited the Heraclidae to his court. I trust that you will ride into battle with me.

Your brother menestheus

"Heracles!" the wanax roared. "He will be deified after death. How I tried to kill him. Now I wish to delay his death. But Athens is weakened with the struggle between Menestheus and Theseus. One has never been strong, the other has been disgraced. How can one kingdom have two kings?"

"We must attack first," General Dievon said. "Theseus has sided with Heracles. Heracles campaigns against cities and replaces kings. This is unstable. He is setting up puppet governments everywhere, establishing himself as a shadow emperor. A king must fear assassination, but a roaming power behind the throne does not, especially if he will join the ranks of Olympus upon his death. His children will have an even strong claim on your throne. You must declare war on Athens for it is harboring the enemy. The Heraclidae are the enemy."

"No, my lord," Machia insisted. "Theseus may have disgraced himself, but he is still an icon of heroism, the son of Aegeus. To many, he is still loved. We must secretly encourage the factionalism between Theseus and Meneseus until they wage war upon each other. Then we shall invade with the claims of assisting our old ally Theseus. The troops do love a good everyone is killed, you must take the throne. This way you will end up as the Heraclidae's new master. When he tragically dies in battle, you can bask in his glory, rule in his name. Eurystheus, High King of Mycenae, Tiryns, and Athens."

Eurystheus narrowed his eyes. "How is it that my dear cousin has enough time to fight wars when he is so busy making children? His short blade must be quick to thrust. Priestess Four! What say you of this Heraclidae!"

We all flinched. Stamatia was Priestess One, Epicaste was most likely Priestess Two, and considering our positions around the hearth, Priestess Four was… me."

Oh dear. It was vital that I soothe his temper. I concocted what made the most sense. The Heraclidae are but roaming bandits," I stammered. "They are sons who do not know their fathers, thus they claim a heroic man who will become a god. They are but a loose army without a cause or state. They have no divinity, nor are they better armed or skilled than an ordinary soldier."

"But now they have the Athenian navy!" the wanax shouted.

He shouted and raved until his voice went hoarse. Then he decided what everyone knew he was going to decide, Mycenae would invade Athens to protect it against the usurper Theseus.

_#_

Machia, Dievon, and I peered at the entrails of the lamb I had just sacrificed to Hestia. This was fortunate, for lamb happened to be my favorite meat.

"Hestia says that Mycenae should not get invade Athens," I insisted. I prodded at the intestines for good effect.

"Unless we march to Korfos and sail from there," Dievon added quickly. "That curve of intestine clearly symbolizes the Saronic Gulf.

"That's can't be possible," Machia scowled. "Our fleet is at Tiryns. Korfos has nothing but merchant sailors who refuse to take part in this war. We want to sail into Phaliron, in case you've forgotten, _Lawagetas_, it is the port of Athens."

Machia had not become the High Commander of the Mycenaean army by being naïve. However, he also had no reason to suspect that his trusty second, Dievon, would try to misrepresent the will of the gods.

Dievon kicked me in the shins and I stifled a sigh. "That lump of blood is clearly Korfos, not Tiryns. Hestia assures us that Tiryns will be blockaded by the finest of the Athenian fleet, as well as Phaliron."

"Obviously, that is what naval battles are for!" Machia cried. "Even so, why can't we sail from Pylos, Sparta, Taenarum, or Nauplion? We have some ships there, the Athenian navy will either be spread thin blockading all those beaches or they won't bother at all."

Dievon made surreptitious hand gestures behind his commander's back. "Hestia reminds us that Korfos is the closest harbor," I interpreted. "Besides, it is easier to commandeer ships from civilians than it is to face one of the most powerful navies in Greece."

"With all due respect to the goddess, this is something we should be asking Ares," insisted Machia. "Besides, since when do the gods provide such specific strategies? And through a mere _dakoroi_? No offense intended, Priestess, but these things are usually done under the direction of Slaves or Key Bearers."

"The gods work in mysterious ways," I said sternly.

Machia kept staring into the guts and frowned. "I don't see it," he muttered.

"That is why we have priests," Dievon said solemnly. "The gods work in mysterious ways."

"Hestia wants to know what you will do if the land bridge to Athens is submerged by the time you arrive?" I was desperately trying to poke holes in his strategy to keep him from leaving.

"Then we will swim, ford or walk across a shallow strip of water. Not everyone is as short at you." Dievon smiled, which he only did on rare occasions.

#

I hovered nervously around the soldiers as I blessed them. The Key Bearer to All the Goddesses watched me under her hawk eye in case I splattered the oil wrong or misspoke a prayer.

"Don't go," I whispered to Dievon as I sprinkled oil over his bowed head. "You believe that the children of Heracles are the rightful rulers of Mycenae and Tiryns."

"I am loyal to my king and to whomever he allies himself," he whispered back.

Of course. Since when was a soldier permitted a mind of his own? "Why is it that men fight on such a grand scale?" I asked bitterly. The girls settled disputes with insults and a bit of clawing and biting.

The wanax gripped Machia's shoulders. "We must not allow Theseus to regain his throne. When he invited the children of Heracles to protect him, he but waged war on me. He swings his blade at enemies and spreads his seed like vermin. Bloodlines must be protected by blood…"

He recited a prayer to Ares, asking him for permission to wage war. The Head Slave to Ares promised that the gods would give us favor. Then he closed his eyes and raised his face towards the heavens.

"Priestess One," he said. Apparently I had been promoted from Priestess Four.

"You will accompany the troops to keep them blessed by Hestia."

I gave a start. Was I being punished? I was being sent off with the troops? I looked at the Key Bearer to Hestia but she did not seem surprised, but upset.

The wanax walked among the cluster of priests. "And Priest Two," he nodded at a boy about my age. "You will keep the men in Aries' favor." He selected more priests including one for Poseidon, to make the seas swift, and Hermes, to make travel easier.

When the wanax took his leave, my friends clustered around me, chattering about how honored I should be, how they would miss me, etc. The Key Bearer to Hestia kept blinking and adjusting my tunic. "This is a great honor," she kept saying. "You are the face of Hestia, you must behave yourself."

I barely heard any of their words. I was going to Athens. It was so close to my home, Eleusis. But I would be arriving of an army of men intent on destroying it. How fate could be so cruel.


	5. Dievon

#

The march to Athens was long and slow. During the day, the sun beat down on my cheekbones and the back of my neck. I was always too hot or too cold. Hunger, thirst, and weariness became my unwavering companions.

My belly flattened and my face narrowed. The moment we left the palace, Machia had the priests and myself carry supplies—as if we were mules or something. "No man shall go spared," he had declared. Apparently it had slipped his notice that I was a woman. When the weight on my shoulders grew unbearable, a disgruntled or sympathetic soldier would relieve me of some of my packs.

When we finally arrived at Korfos, the unexpected happened. The king refused to provide naval support, perhaps he was hoping to gain some favor from the enemy by making a stand. I did not know how he thought he could succeed. The city barely had a standing army and most of its strong navy was out at sea, blockading someone else's port. Thus Machia decided to commandeer the merchant ships… after he taught the people of Korfos why Mycenae was to be obeyed.

I watched in a haze as our men slaughtered the people of sea city. Our men, the men I had marched with, shared laughter and hardship with, our men dutifully followed our orders and ravaged this beautiful city. The sea glittered underneath the clear blue sky as every man's face became splattered with blood.

"Obey or die!" Machia shouted as he raced around in his chariot. Without hesitation, he beheaded a soldier who was just standing there, bewildered and scared. "Anyone who stands back shall be beaten 100 times then flayed alive!"

I screamed as I witnessed Aeschylios, who had four children and was expecting a fifth, drive his sword through an old man trying to run , who would always save some of his bread to feed the birds, speared a child just for crying.

These were not our men. These were monsters transformed by the evil of Ares. I wanted this to stop. I sobbed and cowered but was drowned out by the wails of innocent civilians damned by our men.

By nightfall, our men had herded all the Korfosian males into a cave and thrown bottles of oil on the ground. Anyone who tried to escape was instantly slain.

After we retreated to a safe distance, several of our soldiers threw blazing torches into the oil.1 I do not know how I stayed on my feet as I smelled the scorch of human flesh, heard the howls of pain, and saw the flailing limbs ignited on fire.

"Do you not fear torture in the afterlife?" I whispered to Dievon. Although he had not personally participated in the slaughter, he had looked on with an eerie calm. I angrily dragged my wrist across my teary face.

Dievon just stared at me blankly. "Why would I be tortured in the afterlife?"

"You are the second in command, you could have done something to stop this…"

"I am second in command," he cut me off. "Not first. The chain of command cannot be broken. One break in the link is enough to shatter the entire army…"

I wished to hear no more of his lecture. I turned away and walked till the smoke no longer hurt my eyes. By that time it was already dawn.

#

In the morning, Machia surveyed his carnage in broad daylight. All the males who had escaped a fiery death were promptly speared, even the infants. I did not know which was worse to hear, the cries of the children or the mothers.

A girl clutching a baby insisted it was a sister, not a brother, but refused to prove it, saying it was indecent. She nervously twisted the wooden bracelet she wore. The soldier took the baby from her, sliced through its midsection, and returned the top half.

"Do not lie to me," the man told her. The poor girl stared mutely, letting the infant's blood soak her clothes.2

I refused to believe this mockery of humanity. If this was life, then how fortunate it was that it could be ended.

Why weren't the gods doing anything? Where was Athena with her aegis and blade of justice? Did Zeus not hate Ares the most out of all his offspring because of War's unnatural ways? I prayed to no avail that any god, Olympian, Titan, or heathen, would swoop down from the heavens and put an end to this madness. Instead, our mortal general reigned supreme.

Machia rode around on his chariot, yelling orders. "A city destroyed must be replenished and the children must follow the loyalties of their fathers. Round up all the maidens!"

About ninety women threw themselves down a well, but there were more bodies than water. The ones at the top were dragged out and the wretched survivors were lined up next to a row of soldiers.3

Machia stood at the front of the double line with his sword raised in the air.

"Do you accept this man as your husband?" he asked.

The first woman in line gave a tremulous no. The commander's sword came down in a flash, and my hands flew to my face just in time to hide the hot tears that flooded my eyes.4 Dievon trod on my foot and I lowered my hands once I managed to hold in the scream that was demanding to burst from my lips. If anyone noticed my discomfort, I would only draw unwanted attention to myself.

One woman was holding a naked baby. When she came to the head of the line, Machia repeated his question. She silently handed her child to the woman behind her. Then her head thudded to the ground.

When the men caught on, they began to shuffle around and squabble over the prettier brides.

The girl with the wooden bracelet was still clutching her mutilated brother. I held my own breath as she hesitated before giving her answer. Her groom tugged her away from the line and pulled the corpse out of her arms before tossing it aside. My indignation almost surpassed my horror.

Every time metal meets flesh and bone, the blade grows dull. Our dear General Machia encountered this problem about halfway through the line. The sword did not cut off the woman's head cleanly, it merely made a nasty gash in her neck.5 She staggered around, clutching her wound. I thought Zeus might be merciful, but another soldier finished the deed by ramming his knife through the more delicate stomach. Machia grumbled and tried several other swords, but they, too, were well worn, although we sharpened them every night. He eventually settled for cutting throats.

I carefully trained my eyes on a tree in the distance, but could not close my ears. I flinched each time a woman gasped for the last time upon this earth. When these vile marriages were completed, Machia turned to me for Hestia's blessing.

"Hestia's hearth shall forever burn in your homes," I managed to choke.

The wedding festivities provided the men with an opportunity to drink too much wine. The women either wept or accepted their plight with resignation. Many of the girls were too young to bear the weight of a man, much less carry a child in the womb.

"Be sure to fill your wives with seed." Machia raised his cup. "We leave in a few days. The survivors will return. Five men shall be left behind to govern this place during our absence."

I sidled closer to Dievon, who was crouching in the grass and waving a biscuit at a wild rabbit.

"Do you not think this will invite vengeance?" I hissed loudly. I was a little angry at him for not having interfered. But then, what could he have done? He was just a mortal man.

"Only women are left of this place," he responded "What woman can wield a sword and avenge her people?"

I stiffened. Sometimes I truly disliked the way in which he so calmly accepted the cruelty of the Fates. "Women bear sons, do they not? The father may put food on the table, but the mother puts warmth or hate in the child's heart. In the end, loyalty to the mother will supersede obedience to the father." How much more anger will you leave in your path. You cannot kill everyone, and those who are left will grow to resent you.

"We are doing a noble deed," he said. "If we burn one city to the ground and set an example, the other cities will bow their heads rather than providing futile resistance. Their choice is to submit or die. Besides, my fussy friend, even if Machia were to die, he would only be replaced by one like him."

That depended on who the second in command happened to be. It gave me an idea.

A few days later, Machia died at the hand of a mysterious assassin who was never caught.

Dievon assumed the position of first general.

#

Dievon studied a giant map of Greece, mulling strategy and numbers with his new second, General Meklellion. They were anticipating the worst, the allies could have already reached Athens. Also, there was no word from the reinforcements, which most likely meant that they had run into the enemy. As usual, I stood silently in a corner of the tent in case someone needed a blessing.

"We should break into three groups," Dievon decided. "One force seeks the enemy to cut them off from the ports along this side of the shore. A second group marches through the Isthmus of Corinth and along the northern coast of the Saronic Gulf. The third group will sail across the Saronic from here to Piraeus."

"Piraeus!" Meklellion roared. "It is nothing but a lump of rock! How will you cross the channel that cuts it off from Athens? It is too deep to cross by foot and too shallow to ford. If you try to swim, you'll have no way to get the equipment across and the violent tides will drown you anyway."

"We will wait till dawn, when the water level may be low enough to expose the land bridge."

"You call the Halipedon a land bridge? It is slippery and may flood in mid passage!"

"Piraeus also happens to be part of the most direct route to Athens, which is so obvious and yet risky that Aegeus' generals will never anticipate it. Any other port in the vicinity will undoubtedly be blockaded."6

I didn't like the sound of the land route either. I stared at the Isthmus of Corinth, which was but a skinny line of brown connecting the Peloponnese to Attica. It would not be an ideal battleground should we meet the enemy. However, it was probably Dievon's intention for us to slow the forces that were marching from southwestern Peloponnese.

Meklollion conceded about the Piraeus landing but pointed out that we did not have enough numbers to split into three. "We're losing the war and many men."

"More deserters?" Dievon scorned. "I do despise the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot.7

I thought privately that it was not the men that were weak, but the cause.

We ended up dividing into two instead. I was put in the group to march with Meklellion. Dievon was to lead the other half of the troops by sea.

A group of men went deep into the forest and caught a wild boar to sacrifice. Dievon placed the half maimed animal on a large rock, poured barley over its body, and slit its throat. Then he crossed his arms in prayer and asked Athena and Hestia for her guidance and wisdom. Many of the men muttered uncomfortably, complaining that Poseidon and Ares had been neglected. I, too, wished he would at least appease Poseidon. I feared that half of our soldiers would perish in the waters.

The boar was cooked over a great bonfire but most of the foot soldiers did not even bother to look at it, for they knew that there would be none left for them. As the highest ranking officer, Dievon was offered the first cut of meat, but he silently passed his portion to a young and squalid camp follower. Her limbs were thin and her belly swollen with a child that would never know its father.

1 This scene is an allusion to an actual event in history, France's war to colonize Algeria. This bloody struggle dragged from 1830 to 1847 partly due to strong internal resistance. The French troops resorted to tactics such as trapping civilians in caves and burning them alive. Mahfoud Bennoune's The Making of Contemporary Algeria, 1830-1987 provides more detail about the violent Franco-Algerian relationship.

2 Happened during the Armenian genocide while trying to escape. I don't remember the exact context.

3 I borrowed this suicide by drowning and abduction scene from an eyewitness and participatory account given by a survivor of the 1947 Partition of India. Urvashi Butalia's The Other Side of Silence provides and analyzes one of the largest groups that was victimized and politicized by the Partition, women.

4 I was once told that according to myth, when Romulus founded Rome, he coerced the indigenous women into marrying his soldiers in the same manner. The crossed swords that are emblematic of modern military weddings supposedly represent Romulus' deed.

5 A similar issue of dull swords arose in the Pacific front of WWII. Imperial Japanese troops assisted and ordered mass suicides of the Okinawan civilians so the latter could not be captured alive by American forces. I once read the testimony of an Okinawan woman who survived an attempted beheading by an imperial soldier when she was left for dead and later nursed back to health.

6 Macarthur inchon landing

7 Thomas Paine was the first to warn against the "summer soldier and sunshine patriot" in his pro-Revolutionary pamphlet, Common Sense.


	6. Athena

#

The underworld was very unlike what I had expected. The Styx was startlingly clear, not black. Its depths glinted with silver fish that darted around in never ending circles. The vast land on this side of the river had appropriately been dubbed "Erebus," after the god of shadow. Only a dim red light was visible in the distance, cast from a far corner across the Styx. I felt grateful for this twilight, for the darkness served to protect me from ogling eyes. In death, my body had somehow returned to its female form. I had never been pretty, but I could be considered shapely. Also, my threadbare tunic was skimpy enough to draw attention.

I had thought the afterlife would be peaceful, but it was anything but. A soul or two would occasionally burst into song, which signaled an entire hoard to start dancing, stamping, and singing along to ease their sorrow and boredom.

I ducked out of the way just in time to avoid the flailing arms of a woman in high spirits. "If you do not have an trinket, you have but a hundred years to wait!" she trilled. "Why be sad, just dance and lift your gait! Your final judgment shall not be abate, so simply wait!"

A trinket! In the calming effect of death, I had nearly forgotten. I reached into my mouth and pulled out- a feather? The woman at my dying side had given me a feather? At the command of Athena? Surely it had been the mad hallucinations of my last moments. I twirled it between my fingers. Even if the woman had been Athena, how would I present it to the Rich One himself? I had nothing of value to offer as fare to cross the Styx. _Show it to anyone who stands in your way_, the woman had instructed. Right. Hopefully it would work.

"Phassa? Phassa is that you?" came a familiar voice.

I spun around to an astonishing sight. It took me a moment to recognize the last man I was expecting to see in Erebus, a man who had been a father to me when I had none. The last time I had seen him, his skin had been bleeding raw, his hair matted, and his clothes in rags. In death, his soul bore none of the wounds of the living flesh but his eyes were clearly pained. We stared at each other in shock until I finally spoke.

"Dievon," I whispered. When I embraced him, he gripped me so hard that I winced. "But I buried you properly," I protested. "You should be in the Elysian Fields! Those brutes must have desecrated your body again."

"We must get out of here. We were both sent here too early," he insisted fervently.

I drew back. This was not the Dievon who was always calm and accepted that some matters were out of his hands.

"How can I bear it when my wife and children mourn me?" He paced and muttered to himself.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. It was terrible to see him in this state. "What would your life have been like if there had been no one to mourn you? It would have been better to have never lived at all."

"You do not understand," he half shouted. "Without my wages, my daughters will have to beg in the streets, maybe even sell their bodies. My wife will have to give herself to a new husband."

I watched sadly as this once mighty general wandered from me and raved like a madman. It was unjust that this should happen. He had risked his own life to save Athens. I had risked my own life to ensure him the afterlife he deserved. If he were to cross the Styx, he would drink from the Lethe Pool, lose all the memories that tormented him, and await his family in the Elysian Fields, where heroes belonged. I tried to run after him, but someone restrained me.

"Leave him be," the spirit told me. "They all act like that at first."

Of the many souls that wandered about, not one of them appeared to be afflicted by death. In the agonizing last moments of my life, I knew that my body had been gangrenous and wasted away, but now I was merely thin.

The line for the ferry was long but moved quickly, perhaps it was because there were not many who could afford the passage. Charon's boat grew smaller in the distance as it sailed to the other side of the river.

I trudged to the end of the line for the ferry. When I neared the end of my wait, I blinked with surprise. Instead of a cranky old demon, I found that my passage across the Styx would be provided by a smiling and burly young gentleman. Surely this could not be Charon, the legendary ferryman? Instead of rags, he wore a fancy and colorful outfit that was possibly a silly uniform. As he sailed up to the bank, I saw that his smile was strained. He tied his boat to a piece of wood that was jutting out the ground.

"One passenger at a time, please, a trinket for the fare," he said with feigned politeness. He reluctantly reached out his hand to steady each soul that climbed into the vessel. Charon's bowl of "trinkets" rattled each time someone added a ring, token, or some other valuable metal. I anxiously counted the people ahead of me. Surely there would be room enough for me. I feared that any further delay would anger the Rich One. _Clink_, _clink_, _clink_, and I was next!

"I am so sorry, but you need a trinket." He did not sound sorry at all, but managed a sympathetic expression.

As instructed, I showed him the feather. To my great surprise, Charon's eyes widened and he actually bowed. "Come in, come in!" he said.

As Charon rowed us across the Styx, I tried to hide my shaking hands in the folds of my tunic. More than anything else, I longed to jump out and swim back to the other side of the shore.

I flinched when the boat thudded to a stop. I dreaded my meeting with the god of the underworld, although I was most determined to see it through. As I stood and stepped onto land, the ferryman lifted a finger. "You must be on a very serious mission. The gods do not like those who fail them."

I gulped. "If you would but direct me to the palace, I shall bother you no further. "

Charon pointed at a giant, oddly shaped structure in the distance. In the dim twilight, I could only make out only a silhouette. "Go through the Meadows and follow the golden path. If any of the guards try to stop you, show them that feather."

"What's so important about this feather?"

"It came from Athena's owl!"

That was reassuring.

As I walked further into the underworld, the light grew brighter and the surroundings more pleasant. To my great surprise, the Meadows was very much like the living earth, only more crowded. There were also three suns in the sky, which was as blue as the one above the earth, instead of the rock ceiling I was expecting. The suns were considerably larger than what I had been used to seeing on earth, and the air was as warm as that of a summer day. The shades were solid and busy, just like living people. I wanted to stay and explore, but I feared I would fall prey to some enchantment that would keep me from reaching my ill sought destination.

The golden road led me straight to a gigantic oddity, a mix and match of foreign and futuristic artistry. It sported gold domes, silver points, blue towers, white arches, and all sorts of strange structures that somehow held themselves together. I had expected something darker, more frightening. Surely this was not the abode of the horrible god of the underworld. I turned to one of the many souls that wandered about, going on with their afterlives as if they were not dead.

"Would one of you direct me to the palace?" I asked.

She pointed at the curious building before me, making me feel a bit stupid.

"Thank you."

The gates of the palace were wide open, as if daring fools to enter without permission, so I did.

I gawked at the splendor before me. Silver, not bronze, weapons adorned the walls. Strings of diamonds sparkled from the high, arched ceilings and cast speckles of light everywhere. The master of the palace apparently had a shortage in neither finery nor troops. An endless line of guards flanked the balconies above me, all of them equipped in the sturdiest armor. I could not imagine the wealth that was required to suit an army so thoroughly. Their spears glinted and their swords jutted imposingly from their belts. I could feel their hostile stares but I tried not to let them intimidate me. It did not help that they all had their bows drawn.

Their lower lips and eyelids were painted gold, their eyes lined with kohl, and cheekbones smeared with a streak of copper. It was quite frightening, they looked inhuman.

"I seek the Host of Many with the hopes that he will receive me with hospitality," I called, while holding up the feather. "Where in this vast palace can I find him?"

One of the guards pointed. "Keep following the golden path but beware. He who approaches without a summons is subject to eternal damnation."

"Yes, I know that already, thank you," I muttered.

I eventually reached a chamber that was so large that I could see neither the walls nor the ceiling. It was filled with hundreds of people dressed in beautiful colors and fabrics. About ten small dogs, there were too many to count, ran around the room or perched on cushions. Their long coats were a lovely mix of brown, black, and white.

As I walked inside, a horrified hush fell over the entire room but the dogs started barking immediately. I saw many scribes scribbling away, perhaps describing my stupidity for the benefit of posterity. I shivered although it was not cold.

The god before me well deserved his reputation as the Rich One. He sat on a throne of gold, obsidian, and many other gems of the earth. Obviously, he surrounded himself with finery to console himself of his dreary lot.

To my great relief, he was only a blurry figure through a small fog that hovered in front of him, I had no desire to see his hideousness. The dogs yapped as I walked closer to the throne. I had never thought such a small, fluffy animal could be so ferocious.

When I was but a few paces from him, I threw myself before the feet of the only god who was more feared than Zeus himself. I was careful to avoid the purple carpet, it was sacrilegious for a mortal to trample on the sacred color of the gods.

"This humble wretch is Persephassa of Eleusis, blessed by bountiful Demeter, slave of chaste Hestia, commanded by fierce Athena. In death, she has nothing to offer. In life, she did too little to serve you. She is but a speck of dust at your feet, and yet she is bold enough to beg for your mercy. May you strike her to the bowels of the earth should she displease you," I told the ground. My forehead and palms were freezing against the stone floor, my knees were already sore, and my heart was pounding so fast I thought it would bore a hole through my chest.

Flattery. The Key Bearer to Hestia had always told me that flattery was the best way to appease a man. _Especially_ the immortal ones. Unfortunately, what was supposed to be an eloquent prayer/salutation came out sounding more like a series of squeaks and gasps. It was not every day I came before the lord of the underworld. Actually, it was my first time. I coughed quietly and continued.

"As she took her last breaths upon the living earth, Pallas Athene came to her and charged her with the task of bringing you this token." Without raising my head, I extended both my arms before me with the gray feather in my trembling hands. I heard a chorus of astonished gasps from the assembled courtiers.

After what felt like the longest pause in my life (or afterlife, should I say) I was rewarded with a, "Persephassa of Eleusis, blessed by bountiful Demeter, slave of chaste Hestia, commanded by fierce Athena shall approach the divine master!"

I shivered. I had no desire to approach anyone. The ice in the speaker's voice was warm compared to the sweat that burst from my brow. Nonetheless, I half crawled, half slithered my way through the mist, keeping the feather held out before me and my head so low that my hair kept trailing along the ground. I stopped before the steps that led to the throne.

"Persephassa of Eleusis, blessed by bountiful Demeter, slave of chaste Hestia, commanded by fierce Athena, shall rise!"

I obeyed, rather unsteadily. I kept my gaze fixed on the purple carpet before me, but an invisible force lifted my chin, forcing me to look straight at _him_. I gasped. This god was no monster. He was beautiful! As he inspected me, causing my face to turn from one side to another, I stared back. His cheeks were smooth, save for a tiny little beard that looked like a goat's. He held his chin up with a haughty tilt. His eyes were large, like a fawn's, and they almost made him look wary. His pert lips were pressed together in annoyance. I thought he rather resembled his sister Hestia, only she had been cheery, while he was stern. He appeared to be cloaked in darkness itself, his robes were blacker than an abyss but covered in swirling patterns that appeared to be made of fine gold threads. His diadem of gold and diamonds was as high as the length of his face and flared out on either side of his head. Loops of thin gold chains started from the temples of his diadem and dropped to his waist. The back of his throne reached so far up that I could not see where it ended. The seat was literally radiant, as it was encrusted with the polished gems of the earth.

He put Mycenaean extravagance to shame. Clearly, the god surrounded himself with finery to console himself of his dreary lot. When the invisible force released its hold on me, I hastily lowered my gaze before he could turn me into a monster, or blind me, or something like that. He lifted his arm in a waving gesture, which revealed that his sleeves probably ended at the floor. At this command, a flurry of servants stepped out of the crowd. One of them plucked the feather out of my hand, dipped the pointy end into a small bowl filled with black liquid, and gave the feather back to me. Another brought out a square of stiff, yellowish cloth and held it out to me, while everyone stared expectantly. I just stood there, looking at the feather. The god made an impatient gesture, and somehow the feather leaped out of my hand and began to write, all on its own, while leaving a trail of the black liquid on the cloth. Instead of making an impression as a stylus would on a wet clay tablet, it stained the fabric. I watched, fascinated as it wrote out words in a neat, clear script. One of the servants read it aloud:

"To Hades of the Third Generation, Grandson of the Heaven and Earth,

Master of the Underworld, Deliverer of Justice, Protector of Souls,

Warrior, King, Friend,

I, Athena, salute you.

I must beg for your assistance in a small matter.

A human soul is now in your hands. He has served me well in life, I desire to see him in the Elysian Fields after death, but his body of flesh rots in the open air. I implore you to allow this mortal girl to return to the living earth in order to give this man a proper burial. He is Dievon of Mycenae, savior of Athens."

Then with a flourish, the feather signed "Athena."

The god stared at me. Then, he finally spoke.

"Why, you are just a little girl," he scorned.

"I am almost seventeen," I offered.

He threw his head back and laughed. It was a wonderful, melodious sound. "And we are almost 35,812."

His audience chuckled sycophantically.

"We have never been visited by a little girl. Heroes and fools alike, yes, but never a girl of almost seventeen." He returned to his throne and sat in a graceful sweep of robes.

"Why would our gracious niece choose you, a girl of no consequence, to bury a mighty hero?" he mulled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied the scribes jabbing at their tablets as if deeper inscriptions could illustrate their master's wrath. A court artist picked up his own brush and painting a vase, only adding to my self consciousness.

"What madness could bring a maiden before us. You must have come all this way to admire our beauty."

"We shall renew your life so you can go back and bury your friend," he said graciously.

"That is not fair," I lashed boldly. "His body will be hard to find among many, and it may be well guarded. There is no guarantee that I will succeed."

"But if you do, we will be that much more impressed. Do not attempt to negotiate with our generosity."

And so I did not.

The Unseen One turned his palm up and a pomegranate appeared in his hand. "Do you know the significance of the pomegranate?" he asked as he broke the fruit open.

"Marital fidelity and fertility," I responded immediately. Every girl hopes to enjoy both someday, but it is often too much to expect the former.

He stared at the pomegranate, almost in disdain. He turned in around in his hands. "A goddess planted the tree that bore this fruit. It comes from the tree of knowledge. It will overwhelm you and kill you. She is the Pandora of the divine race, and this gourd is her box."

He touched the pomegranate to my waist, against my tunic, then looked puzzled. Then he drew back. "Humans have yet to invent pockets," he muttered to himself.

After mulling for a moment, he made as if to pluck one seed but the rest followed on a golden chain. He fastened the necklace around my neck.

"You shall return to us once your task is complete." Then he pressed an obol into my hand. "Six seeds. Do not delay and try to relive a life already gone."

I raised a hand to the beads. Did he mean for me to poison myself? I hoped it would work quickly.

Before I could ask, I found myself upon the living earth again, exactly where Dievon's body had been. Our own troops must have abandoned the entire camp. There were foreign banners flying everywhere.

I stopped one of the official looking soldiers who were riding on their chariots. "What has happened here?" I demanded. "There was a body here."

The man looked at me. "This is Menestheus' territory now. He ordered all corpses to be cleared." He gestured behind him.

I ran in the direction he showed me and saw several piles of rotting bodies waiting beside gaping holes in the ground. One soldier was digging more graves while two others brought more corpses. I watched in horror as they pushed a stack of bodies into the same grave without even performing the proper funeral rites.

I ran from pile to pile, trying to find Dievon's body. I gagged at the overwhelming stench and swatted at the flies that buzzed possessively.

I finally recognized him by the letters he had carved into the soles of his sandals. They bore the names of his wife and three children, so they would be with him always, he had once explained. He had always hoped to add more names.

I pulled him out of the heap and knocked off other bodies in the process, to the great annoyance of the soldiers who had worked so hard to stack the corpses.

Dievon's body was heavy and decayed, so I barely managed to drag him to the nearest open grave. Even if he would have to settle for a mass burial, at least he would have fare for the Styx.

I firmly slid the obol into his mouth, rolled his body into the excavation as gently as possible, and pushed loose dirt over him until he was completely covered.

"This time, stay in there." I dabbed at my tears and forced a laugh. I walked to where the earth had not been disturbed and collected wildflowers for his grave. However, I dropped the entire bouquet when the earth began to shake violently.

"I didn't mean to!" I shouted desperately. I tried to shove the flowers back into the ground but Gaia only trembled more angrily. I yelped as I was thrown off of my feet. Suddenly, the ground split open and a terrifying figure came charging out in a chariot as dark as the night. His ebony cloak whipped behind him and his cruel whip never stopped flailing. His four steeds strained against the reins and thundered their way straight towards me.

The soldiers dropped their work and ran, screaming. I took flight as well, but the charioteer pursued me on foot. He kept shouting at me, but I only bawled louder. When he grasped my shoulder, I tripped and fell. I tried to get up again but he wrestled me to the ground. I thrashed and hollered for all my life was worth. If this demon was to take me, I would at least make it more difficult.

He kept trying to grab my wrists, but I kicked, hit, and bit him. He finally pinned down my right arm and pried my fist open. A single petal was stuck to my sweaty palm. I panted for breath, astonished, as he carefully peeled off the petal and climbed off of me. I was even more surprised when I brushed the hair out of my eyes and saw my attacker's cranky but familiar face.

"By Zeus," swore the god of the underworld." "Why are women always so difficult? They'll kill over a stupid plant!"

Grumbling, he went over to where I had dropped the bundle of flowers and sifted through it. He carefully picked out a mangled narcissus and somehow reattached the petal. Then he restored the stem back into the earth.

He shot me a look of disgust and I felt a hot flush come over my cheeks. "Of course it is you, Almost Seventeen. No other mortal has ever given me so much trouble."

"Forgive me, Polynomos, I did not realize I was picking your sacred blossom," I stammered.

He sighed in a resigned way. "The nymphs do it on purpose to force us to appear before them, we suppose you meant no harm."

He climbed back into his chariot and looked me up and down in an appraising way. Then reached over, grasped my chin, and stared into my eyes in that probing way. He gazed at my necklace of pomegranate seeds, then sighed heavily.

"I suppose if I just leave you here, you'll do more silly things." He paused as if to think. "Accept me as your master above all the other gods and I will see to the promotion of your welfare."

I did not quite understand. "You want me to dedicate my life at your temple?"

"In my kingdom." He patted his chariot as if inviting me on.

My parents had abandoned me, I had no need to worry about them missing me. I had seen war, death, and the underworld, I could not return to Hestia's temple and pretend to be happy with tending a fire for the rest of my life. I was no longer the content ignorant fool I had once been. I had never wanted to join the army in the first place and regardless, it had a death warrant for me. Hence I made a choice that wasn't really a choice at all. I bowed my head before my new master. "I am your humble servant," I said simply.

He imperiously held his hand out to me. I bent on my right knee before him and kissed the back of his hand while touching my left knee with my left hand. Then he pulled me onto the chariot and we flew back into the underworld.

The wind roared against my ears and my hair scourged my face, but I had never felt safer.


	7. Demeter

As soon as we arrived in the underworld, Polydegmon handed off his horses and chariot to some servant hands. He walked off as if he had forgotten all about me. Thus I wandered around the palace, exploring. There were palace guards in every corner, they all snapped to attention and saluted whenever I passed. Everything was so grand and beautiful, until I eventually came across something unusual.

I scrutinized the stone wall that stood so imposingly before me. It seemed so primitive and out of place at the end of a corridor that stretched with the finest marble, I think it was called. Intrigued, I ran my hands along the rock and drew back with alarm when it began to move back, revealing an opening on the side. I slipped inside, unable to turn down the discovery of a secret passageway. I found myself in a marble hallway that was identical to the one I had been in. There was another stone wall at the end and it, too, yielded to my touch.

This time, it opened to a small, dingy chamber that was completely empty, save for a strange, life-sized object that was completely gray with dust. I moved closer and saw that it was a sculpture of a sleeping or dead woman. From the graceful hands folded over her flat stomach, the proud posture, and the fine features of the face, I could tell it was meant to depict a noble lady.

"Girl," came a stern voice.

I gasped and spun around. The master stood in the doorway, looking magnificent in gleaming silver robes. Apparently he had already changed out of his black. I wondered how often he changed his attire. His diadem was of a simpler sort this time, it was only as high as 2 fingers width. I threw myself to the floor and almost smacked my forehead on the ground. I peeked up only when I heard a series of high pitched barks. Cerberus was wriggly excitably in the master's arms.

"How did you get in here?" he demanded. He swept past me and examined the statue, almost anxiously. Then his expression flickered with relief, then turned to sheer disdain. "This is the Pandora of the divine race. We could not stand the sight of her wandering in our kingdom, so we had Hypnos put her to sleep. Forever."

Cerberus growled and snapped at the statute as is agreeing with his master.

There was an unspoken note of what Polydegmon could do to those who displeased him. When he turned to look at me, I hastily lowered my head to the ground once more.

"We should have never let you wander around the palace for so long," he said, almost to himself. "It is time for you to properly join the dead. Come!"

At his command, some invisible force pulled me to my feet and made me walk, no, trot along with his swift, angry strides. I tried to stall and slow my steps, but the unseen force simply pulled harder. I had no desire to "properly join the dead."

"Commander!" the master bellowed. He made no attempt to slow down as a lavishly armored soul, obviously a high ranking soldier, appeared beside him. The soldier snapped to attention, then seeing that he was being left behind, quickly fell into step next to the master in a clank of metal. Meanwhile I was still being dragged along by the invisible force that never eased its grip on me.

"My Lord!" the warrior panted. "Reporting for—"

"How is it that this human girl was able to breach your defenses?" demanded Polydegmon. "You let her slip past you and get into that—_forbidden chamber_. How would you like to be a foot soldier again, I'll put you on guard duty in Tartarus…"

The commander looked astonished. "I was just following orders Sir!" he protested. "You gave specific orders that those you escorted personally to the underworld shall be treated as a mistress of this realm. You told us Sir, repeatedly, that we must do everything to impress such a lady. We wanted to do nothing to jeopardize your chances of engaging in congress with your… special guest." He trailed off as the god froze in mid stride.

The master looked astonished, then angry, then annoyed. "Ah," he said with much more calm. Then he paused to look at me, then he looked at the commander, then he looked back at me. "Have you no eyes, Commander?" the master chuckled. "Your bed must be cold indeed if you think that we, the Grandson of the Heaven and Earth, King of the underworld, guardian of souls, high commander of the largest army in the world, a beauty desired by all creatures, a fearsome warrior whose skill in battle is only surpassed by his ability in bed, would care to lie with _that_." He jerked his chin in my direction.

I blinked. I did not think I was horrid looking, there had been plenty of men willing to lie with me. However, I supposed that the Grandson of the Heaven and Earth, King of the underworld, guardian of souls, high commander of the largest army in the world, a beauty desired by all creatures, a fearsome warrior whose skill in battle is only surpassed by his ability in bed would have his choice of mates.

The commander chuckled back, looking relieved. "Even Zeus' bed cools in comparison to yours, My Lord," he bowed.

"Probably not," Polysemantor replied solemnly. "Unlike our dear brother, who finds satisfaction in any maiden, there are few that we find deserving of our affections." He paused and blinked rapidly. "We will never forget that day we first saw our proper reflection." His voice broke. "We sobbed and sank to the floor, humbled by the beauty of the portrait before us. When we realized the countenance in the mirror was actually _us_, we clawed at our face, frightened that nature could produce such unnatural marvel. We could not breathe and lost consciousness for a full minute."

I wondered how he would know that a minute had passed if he were unconscious.

The master continued to walk in silence, although he seemed much happier. The commander clanked along, occasionally dabbing at his brow. We finally stopped when we reached the throne room. Minus a few official looking souls milling about, it was empty. The souls all bowed when they saw the master.

"We shall have this girl judged," he announced. "Send her off to her proper afterlife." He turned to leave but one of the souls coughed.

"Forgive me master," said the soul. "Today is a holiday. There is no one to judge, no one to speak on her behalf, no scribes to keep record…"

"Tomorrow then," Polysemantor shrugged. He turned to leave again.

"Alas," replied the soul, looking surprisingly calm. "This girl is still alive, she cannot be judged."

"Yes, I resurrected her for a simple task," snapped the master, looking increasingly less patient. "Then I brought her back myself to save Hermes some paperwork, just do what you need to do."

"She must wait her turn," insisted the soul. "If you make an exception for one, then everyone will want an exception." The other souls nodded and mumbled assent. Even the commander started to nod but froze when the god shot him a look.

As the master's face began to darken, his silver robes almost looked white in comparison.

"Bureaucrats!" he muttered under his breath. "Then let her wait at the shores of the Styx," he ordered aloud. He turned to leave once more but the soul spoke again with apparently no concern for the master's temper.

"Charon won't ferry souls to the side of the living," the soul pointed out. "Your orders, my lord."

"There's an exception if she has a hero visa," added another soul who was listening to the conversation. She looked me up and down. "It usually requires the applicant to have military training however…"

"How am I the king of the underworld if mired in red adhesive!" cried the master. "Why can't you fools just get things _done_?" His eyes grew cold as he focused on me. "I want that human to drink from the Lethe by tomorrow. Dead or alive, judged or not. If this is not done, all of you will be demoted to crowd control duty in Erebrus."

As the souls gasped and quietly muttered among themselves, Polysemantor stalked away with Cerberus following at his heels. I just stood there, forlorn and useless. I eavesdropped anxiously as they spoke among themselves.

"Unheard of!" one of the souls whispered.

"He wants her to skip the line?"

"It's at least a 60 years wait, everyone will want to cut ahead…"

"Would he really send us to Erebrus? The new souls are so annoying…"

"Do you think he'd let us take a pay cut instead?"

After much argument and furtive glances in my direction (as if I were not standing right next to them) the souls broke out of their hurdle.

"Come along now," said one of them with mock cheer. They hustled me back to the Styx, gave Charon so much gold that it weighed down his boat, and accompanied me to the other side. They walked me over to what looked like the opening in a cavern and gave me another bag of gold.

"Listen carefully," spoke one of the souls, slowly and clearly. "First you leave through that exit right here. Once you're out in the world of the living, you must kill yourself. Make sure you're actually dead. Then let _Hermes_ bring you to the underworld. Then cut to the front of the line, give Charon this gold, and after that you can drink from Lethe."

I almost asked why I couldn't just drink from the Lethe now, but chose to not give them that idea. Instead, I asked how I was to kill myself. I had no intention of doing so, but it seemed the right question to ask.

"How are we to know?" the soul shrugged. "We're already dead." He nudged me along. "Now go!"

Clutching my bag of gold, I half walked, half skipped past the opening of the cave and into the world of the living. I could not believe my luck, I was to live again, to delay the dreariness of Asphodel. I turned my face up towards the sun, and then…

"E.S.E. Halt!" someone shouted from behind me.

I halted. Bandits, I thought. I glanced down at the bag of gold I had dropped at my feet.

"Put your hands behind your head!"

I obeyed. The speaker sounded very angry.

"Turn around. Slowly!"

At least the bandits would save me the trouble of killing myself. I sighed and started to turn. Then, in a flash of bronze, about 20 people jumped on me. I screamed and tripped onto my back.

"Stop resisting! Stop resisting!" the bandits cried, while beating me with their sticks.

I screamed, struggled, and raised my arms to protect my face only to realize that I felt no blows. I blinked and saw that the bandits had stopped beating me as well. They looked astonished. I also saw that they wore the same armor of the soldiers I had seen in the underworld. One of them put his hand against my arm, but his hand went straight through me as if he were nothing but mist.

"Sorry miss, didn't know you were still alive," he stammered. "Just doing our jobs, you know." He touched the base of his helmet. "Escaped Soul Enforcement at your service."

"No grudge is held," I replied graciously. I picked up the bag of gold and started to go along on my merry way.

"You have to kill yourself!" called one of the bureaucrat souls that had been watching the entire scene. "We need you to drink from the Lethe by tomorrow!"

I waved without turning back. "I have till tomorrow!" I responded. Meanwhile, I was starving. Surely Charon would not mind if his bag of gold was a little lighter. I wanted to eat everything. I would enjoy life to its fullest while I still could.

While on my way to civilization (and a bazaar with lots of food) I found a small, open air shrine dedicated to Demeter, patron goddess of my home Eleusis. Ever the priestess, I laid a coin upon the altar and poured a libation from the jug of water. I knelt and kissed the ground. When I looked up, two beautiful and noble priestesses had appeared out of nowhere.

"Bow before the lady," the first one commanded.

"I am bowing," I stated obviously. Couldn't the ninny see what I was doing?

The first woman opened her mouth but the second priestess put a restraining hand on her arm.

"You should eat first," she said kindly. A feast suited for kings appeared on the altar.

I gasped and pressed my forehead to the dirt. "This humble wretch greets Potnia Demeter!" I managed.


End file.
